BUILDING BLUEPRINT

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No Need For Introduction

I ascend in the court of sins, in accordance with the brit' ship scene corticene with the lash of whips.
Beneath the trees there are strong bears that bleed, anthropomorphic pieces of crap ripped by their mind, pulled by a lead.
I see goldilocks over the yard sized 2 triceratops, lured by a strong orange porridge, that smells like what she needs.
Wooden board in a barren barrel where lead leaks, ammo freaks mislead by misfire while hoplophiles hop over the smell of burning bullets.
Ammo is what my food is, ignite the fire in the chamber, a little flame pokes out a little piss.
Here's a little diss, to every non pot to piss pot head little "Miss may I!" NEET goblin that smell like fish.
Every girl dismiss when you ponder "What If? Do I have a chance?" The answer in a array of smoke lit by spliffs.
Coughing up "Who knows?" realistically no, but what do I know? Nothing and everything when I gave it a go a while ago, that's what the algo told.

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A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.