Fuck, clean up on aisle six
Out of this coviction of feelings
You're bold but i'm a soldier and i'm colder than two degrees
Pushing keys like them niggas that were banging on the keys
Top of my pile of bodies
Right flows down and they might go nice
So i stay moderately buzzed, fighting the urge
It calls for separation of the federal state and church,
And a bad one with two degrees
So if you wanna leave
Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips
Wrapped up in degrees of these secret organizations,
If you don't want to get burned. lower me to fifty degrees,
Give it back with a sensitive mouth and some hard knees
A hundred degrees, i dove in and started to eat
I'll tell you true stories, how i coldly hold heat
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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