Chris Crack - Sophisticated Gossipers lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Sophisticated Gossipers Lyrics

Chris Crack – Sophisticated Gossipers Lyrics

All we doing is bag chasing, you wouldn't know about that
Nigga your dad made it, early ages we all had babies
PTSD made us half crazy, when I stayed off Adams
I couldn’t bag Stacy, West Side down Madison
Used to drag race it, no she ain’t good for me
See that’s a bad craving, you broke niggas still buying tees
Out the gas station, I’m just past patient
Fuck your neon pajamas, I’m on the couch at your moma’s
At this pink pistol party, I got mud on your carpet
If you were somebody I respected I would probably be sorry
Not a fact, don’t say something, I’m starting
Still smoking in your studio apartment, they keep tell me
To put it out but I just started, I could be so disrespectful
When I’m feeling pressure, I deal with karma in real time
I gotta feel mine [?] is still fine
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