cooked coke...i make-fine-cakes...and as thanks...this asshole wants to break-my-face...well 858 can keep his strap-on// siccness already got too many fake pricks with wack songs// cut his belly open...pull out a black-thong...bitch to core// im sick...i spit-from-my-sores...the type shit you get from lickin-some-whores in sigapore// my journal is terminal burning-flow..i keep purgatory furnished-bro// nice comfy sofas...i add-asses when i ass-assin after my verbal mags-blastin. in plastic bags, bodies i drag-gaspin// you in liberache fag-glasses with sparkling hearts trying to see my darts// my bark is in stark contrast with my bite// its worse and will take your life...at the least..take-your-mic..and use it to rape--your-wife// either way you pay-the-price...you make your bed. lay-in-lice, bed bugs..and led slugs..... //a bunch of dead-bugs...yea i be-on-the-bandwidth...but i squeeze-and-i-blam-it at your torso forceful...you wheeze-from-the-damage as you bleed-on-the-canvas// my dick is hungry so it eats-cause-its-famished and your smeeze-is-the-sandwich// on her knees-when-i-ram-it...to her face the seeds-have-been-planted....
oNotOptimizeForBrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style>[FONT="]When I spit-it…I release mathematic digits more frigid than rayon// I have to stay-clam…cause in my hand…there is napalm and reading your gay-song make me wanna face-palm// im riding on top of waves-on…a thin flap of skin that separates bones from your chin when I kick deadly with a spin// inducing anguish from your zen…expecting you to wake up before the count-of-ten…hoping that I at least left an ounce-of-him// I have yet to let the pounce-begin// hiding in the tall-grass…with a tall-glass with a lid shut tight full of raw-hash// when I let the fangs and claws-flash…that’s when you know its all-bad// so you should fall back farther than daylight savings on 12-24…oh-nine// cause during the birth of the sun…I provide no-shine for your whole-rhyme// I blow-pine trees with dipped-leaves to trip-free and spit a split-stream…that’s how I rip-fiends…unrelenting…guns-a-plenty…under the stockings of nuns-with-tiddys huge and bountiful and fun-for-squishing// I got a habit to stab-it….cause of me...your mom tossed her rabbit // thought my d*ck was the brass ring and made an attempt to grab-it// but she only gets it ounce…so I made it disappear to another dimension like 8 obese mexicans to a mini’s suspensions// everything said was per my intentions...like, for instance…how im currently doing the witness // I mean the whiteness…thought he was coming righteous with his sunny-d microwave pizza rolls weakest-flow-itis //imma do him like morris day to prince’s fichus after I down a whole tank of nitrous…then light-it/// if that went over your head…don’t trip…I’ll school you on some game like lykis// you’re mad…obscenities might-slip// upset cause my mic-fixed on my hand with a tight-grip// and you tried to strip it from me like a site-rip with barely legal white-chicks with nice-t*ts to an urban-board…full of malnourished herbivores with no veggies...but plenty of white meat these dumb negros be thirsting-for// if you thought it couldn’t get worse-theres-more// first-theres-your…fat f*cking mother with corset-sores/// I asked her what are these forceps-for?/// she laughed and said “for fisting my poor-stretched-source// I fear my son-might grow to be a fun-guy and store-wet-spores and I want you to reach in and abort-that-whore”// yo…I aint trying to gore-that-boar..i was out like ruffies in mojitos regretting that day I didn’t murder this little squirter// my apologies for going a little bit further//[/FONT]