Born gangster from the fist of her momma’s belly
she grew up rolling on her jams and jelly
Two loaded dice were found in her baby hands
The odds were in her favor. Everything was grand
Love money attention and all the last chances
Went up her nose in cold white prances
Cars were totaled, parents were called
Bounced from all the clubs, while police were stalled
The predictions about her in circulation
Always pictured her ODed, or in rehabilitation.
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