Postpartum Politics
Parental Control
Oh you mad ho? You ain't headline
You my son, bitch, and it’s bedtime
I send them on an errand then I son them like my children
You couldn't get a fan if it was hanging from the ceiling
To raise a child, it might take a village
But I wouldn't know cause these bitches my sons; yes, they was, and they still is
These hoes my sons, I'm papa though
I feed them bitches wit papa dough
No Responsibility
All these bitches my sons
I’mma get ‘em a nanny
Or the razor, yeah the razor
She my son yeah, but I ain't raise her
These hoes so musty hoes is so crusty
These bitches is my sons and I don't want custody
Parental Control
Oh you mad ho? You ain't headline
You my son, bitch, and it’s bedtime
I send them on an errand then I son them like my children
You couldn't get a fan if it was hanging from the ceiling
To raise a child, it might take a village
But I wouldn't know cause these bitches my sons; yes, they was, and they still is
These hoes my sons, I'm papa though
I feed them bitches wit papa dough
No Responsibility
All these bitches my sons
I’mma get ‘em a nanny
Or the razor, yeah the razor
She my son yeah, but I ain't raise her
These hoes so musty hoes is so crusty
These bitches is my sons and I don't want custody
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!