Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
My homeboy brave he annoy brothers so he in grave like others
At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses
Bow your heads-i see the lines of my beaten artist hearses.
And then bitch-slap her on purpose,
Dial up words but they're not in service
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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