I'm hot like the backlash backdraft from sugar packets packed with anthrax
Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
Turn you niggas into urns, my furnaces re-furnish,
At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses
'cause it was an admired service-man
You got some plan? your the big man?
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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