Only Good For Conversation
My pocket don't drive me fast.My mother treats me slow.My statue's got a concrete heart,but you're the coldest bitch I know.
In the factory that you call your mind,graveyard thoughts of stone.A master thief, I wouldn't enter there.You've nothing I would care to own, so help me.
You're pretending that you got it made.You know I know you know no truth.You're still serving cookies and kool-aid,you're so proper and so cute.
My pocket don't drive me fast.My mother treats me slow.My statue's got a concrete heart,but you're the coldest bitch I know, so help me.