
2 blinks, a strobing light, help me please, this broke bitch paralyzed,
hurricane in her head, Miami’s on her mind,
ooo,
sunshine while I palm trees, BOOM!
and I write a couple songs about musical enemies, DOOM!
1 blunt, 2 blunts, 5 more hit the sand, she flies with the stars with a freestyle fam, silent on the beach while she writes those digital jams!
OH!
it’s the ticket to her opening gig,
united center, bro, the underground’s pissed!
got the mainstream angry,
fish all hate me,
but this jellyfish is glue,
to take the pieces of a broken heart,
and build it back anew…
WOO!
That hell raisin’ rebel, ghost writin’ devil,
or so the storms rains sang,
but with her own damn hands and those digital bands,
she rocked the Kaseya, she donated love from Fiji,
With her smart water that she turned to wine, she took Kansas by the neck, and threw her to the brine, sent Abbot to the reaper, and blew over the signs of, an Iowan medical disaster, it’s the MetaMasher, and I’m ravin’ about, something I love to shout,
it’s those trusty dusty, old broke and crusty, god damned Chicago Blues!
now listen here, mister!
my twister sister’s! They matter more than myself to me,
and you’ll never rob a rebel of the love that’s written, deep within her leaves,
if your goal is to just blow holes, that two hand jam gonna blow a bigger set a holes in you! full throttle hear a hellcat ZOOM!! ZOOM!!
and a rebel rains!
ooo!
tornado, tornado, Blow it the fuck away,
the red white and blue, the division of truth, tornado, blow away those blues!
oouuii,
grab me baguette’s, like asap, im rocky, fresh off the jet,
I’ll probably puke, I’m still gonna groove, but I’ll need a nap inside, of the shelter, from the winds within my mind…
tornado, tornado, I’m singin’ to a breeze,
and she said she loves my voice,
daddy please,
don’t you ever stop singin’ those blues…
I think you look better in your pink, but your blue boy voice sounds beautiful to me too! and when you get mad when someone’s words slap, I love the way you mooo-ve,
riding rainbow dashes, eating applejacks with Jesus, it’s a cereal type of cool, her minds calm, there’s no wind, and she writes you a tune, to carry with you, as you go on the road, you start to lose hope, remember my words kiddo, you’re on the one yard line, 5 seconds time, you’re the battalion chief tonight, you decide just where that fire wind blows!
I want Mahome’s!
I want my Porsche’s, Mercedes, and Audi’s for my ladies, and a fucking Ferrari for, both of my babies, like I said, I was raised by Eminem, I got my pancakes and cheese, it’s not me plus you, it’s Aubrey plus Tee.
whisper willow, whisper willow, I’m a no bullshit business, bear when it comes to my kids, and truthfully how you treat, both has me miffed, I like that word it fits me perfect, like, mittens in July, because my steering wheel was hot, and my eyes already cried, enough to fill a river…yet here I am it’s true, in those really pretty volunteer oranges, and some Chicago blues!
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