I'm the freakin definition of fine. Point, but only to hone in on which way I'm blowing wind.. songs. I take Earth's paints and just shape them into dreamlands so we can play Pan and defeat hell, it's freelance. I'm in hell each time my inhale injests, um, dis-spells. Improper permeates, like ticks with faster slurping, but the tricks just faster burping... This kid shit's with a Masters in earning. Disastrous tendencies just way too fast to end with tender ease_ so I lay me back and let miraculous drive just do it's fly Thing. I could crack cement when blamed i'm blasphemous, so cracked teeth are mainly "laxatives" so my shit can skip the fan and instead just hit the black jewel and let facts set straight my friends. REAL rAps are star dust happenin' when a Martyr let this "farger" pick rap again. Farmers market blacks the carpet, so carpe diem, and stack some daddy trust with park bench and apple juice, no consentrate. Compensate, switch caddy for shift's at Big Daddy's Balls, where the 1-2s gettin' groovy and tryin' to slow dance in the halls. All the other kitchens:: 'day just bitchin' 'cuz they're still there, dishin'_ it's muy caliente, and the ointment from la 'cocina [for to kill itchin'] was too old to still work ~but sol still worked_ until Guy hoe checked and recieved facts: that in fact even that stuff too, is still stacked. "Fair's" no where to play games.. either it's win big or keep sending rates... on the green-team {for real} so keep heading straight.
// Returned fax//
