Past lyrics

[Verse]
A bad b*tch like me supports 9/11
I was married the day I turned 7
My virginity snatched and binidi[?] buried
When I turned 8 I traumatically miscarried
My n*gga beat my ass
For that is if it wasn't his abuse that caused that
10 year old Fatima run away for a better life
But now believe me n*gga chased me with a knife
But now I sat on a car board box and my panties
They got graped by a gang of pakistanis

[Chorus]
Every night I cry about about my trauma
Every day it feels it get harder
But which needs some marihuana

Every night I cry about about my trauma
Every day it feels it get harder
But which needs some marihuana and a n*gga in her

[Verse]
The day the b*tch turned 11
I pray to Allah I could die and go hеaven
I was riddled with sevеre depression (like Megan's pus*y)
7 years later I made it, took hard work
And determination to make it
The happiness is here I no longer have to fake it
So rich now I gotta sell my clit
[Chorus]
Every night I cry about about my trauma
Every day it feels it get harder
But which needs some marihuana

Every night I cry about about my trouble
Every day it feels it get harder
But which needs some marihuana and a n*gga in her

[Verse]
Every day I now can commit haram
Smoke weed, eat pork and sh*t on the Quran
I am free to be me, free from all my struggles
Now I can get diped down on the double

[Chorus]
Every night I cry about about my trauma
Every day it feels it get harder
But which needs some marihuana and a n*gga in her

n*gga! Ah. n*gga. n*gga