This is a song about "Beanak gb bn nv bvn nbvnv"

At bunker hill hot summer,

The ice ain't really nothing to her

Definitely melting your mind like melting pots i'm melting tops

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

Hey your honor, is you kidding

Everyday less special people kissing,

Asking her to meet me at six by the church of the saint to talk about things we had done and said

But then they'll have an accident and pick up another mani went to the bank to cash my check

Baby you summertime fine, i'll let you get on top

I top and outperform, screeching bones like a board and chalk

That was the sonic art form of rhyming and poetry, and it is abbreviated in three letters r-a-p

So step back sacrap an resite your rap, come spitting back when ya got something decent not whack,