wieners out of our draws and girls in position, doggystyle on thurr paws. high velocity cum shot, my monstrosity is beyond hot. from the fiery pits of hell, i take girls to poundtown. could you tell?
i wanna fuck i-carly. she carly, me hardy. hard not gnarly cause i’m not a fuckin surfer.
i’ll take you on a picnic with wine and flowers. what do i look like? a puff girl, power. no, i’m courage the coward.
english must’ve been your worst subject, your grammar is as shitty as the police catching the wrong black subject. oh, i clearly mean you, ‘cause that shit you spew sounds like my ass after a plate on fondue. i’ll pass through your gang crew like a stick of butter that’s easy to slice through. jet li’s nothin’ compared to me. i’ll smoke you and leave you an amputee harder than my lungs when i inhale these mary j. leaves. drop the sass, i can see your shit rhymes like a clear pane glass. that rap class you passed was only ‘cause the teacher loved to play with your ass. this is the end of your feature. now go back in bed with your lovely white preacher.
big juicy white girl ass, fuck a chick to make the time pass. smoke a blunt, take a hit. get lit. that girl rides so hard i can feel that clit.
she got ironic tattoos on her back. that ain’t ironic, bitch, i love rugrats. watch i’m lame, not handling fame. i bang any broad with bangs in a band with an animal name. hannibal came drinkin’ a handle of jameson. anallin’ anyone is the plan for the evenin’.
just another day out in sunny cali they say, there’s dealers in the streets and the coppers don’t play. got my 501 jeans, my crew neck sweater. saggin’ in my pants ‘cause i don’t know better.
shit you hear on valentines day, be mine. i’m serious i’ll do you like a line. forever stuck in my mind. we can fuck under the covers and be potential lovers. fuck you from behind.
i stand at work and make the girls twerk with my leadership skills; captain kirk. i’m a no holds-barred gruber from die hard that’ll bombard you with lyrics that’ll catch you off guard. i slang guns, i order #1’s that give my ass the runs. make your daughter hollar for a dollar, and wear chains ‘round my neck like a motherfucking baller.
hustlin’ is so necessary, with no adversaries. but ain’t no love, like a calendar with no Februaries.
sit back, relax. split a 6-pack. poppin’ xanax with a freckled ass bitch.
i have a room with no view, sex with no sheets, dick so deep i can feel her heart beat. she’s screaming like a horror flick, sex so good think i love the chick (no i don’t). so, i won’t text her back, fuck buyin’ dinner, i’d rather grab a sack.