Alcohol, cigarettes and luxury goods, Christmas lights look desperate in this room. Winter's light left me in the dark last night And Jingle Bells are smothered in this gloom. Winter
cake, a soul cake Please, good missus, a soul cake An apple, a pear, a plum or a cherry Any good thing to make us all merry A soul cake, a soul cake
a soul cake, please good missus a soul cake. One for Peter, two for Paul, three for Him who made us all. A soul, a soul cake, please good missus a soul cake
it I sell ice in the winter, I sell fire in hell I am a hustler, baby, I'll sell water to a well I was born to get cake, move on and switch states Cop
amongst tha? Streets deceivin?, can't believe my achievements Cultural strata, persona's that of a non-needer Because I don't need nada except for Prada beaver For cold winters
e b e s t, DJ Khaled We da best W e t h e b e s t, DJ Khaled That's me I wake up to get my cake up, I'm Algie brown What can I say I'm a product of my
you'll have no escape And at the same time there'll be nowhere to settle I trample down all life in my wake I eat it up and take the cake I just avert
into these years I don't care if it's spring, summer, winter or fall Make no fuss about the seasons 'cause I like 'em all Here on earth I'll have my cake
orange and blue I like 'em floppy with ankle socks, lows, mids, and high tops With the clear sole, but it's tims and fat laces when it is cold But when the winter
Any nigga disrespect the click gettin' shot 'Round here niggas get found upside down Ova the money, the money The money, the money, the cake Cake Money, money, money, money Cake
like em floppy with ankle socks lows mids and high tops, (big boy) With the clear sole, But this tims and fat laces with it is cold (Big boy) but when the winter
that for they deserved him for the music I was cutting my classes Stood up late night, a stanky nigga bustin' my ass Now my memory cake, and y'all niggaz cake
herself some clothes, and she bought me back a chopper, see niggas tryna kick it, but no I don't play sucka, I'm all about my cake I'm tryna marry Betty
what I write yeah Might there, throw 'em off like they Bobby Knight's chair I been where you tryin to be, I'm already hot All about cake, Betty Crock'
s like you niggas addicted to bitch shit, you fetish fake Dahlmer Pop you, then eat you on the anniversary of your death Like the top of a wedding cake
