Quote:
Originally Posted by Urban Dialect
iron spikes making your tires blow like sliding on ice, out of control; stop trying to fight it and go with the flow as you spiral down the commode, like bodily waste being disposed of; that's the only thing that remains after eating you whole, that, and the smell of cheap cologne, that i occasionally burp up. tasted like a fake emcee with no flavor, generic and bland with nothing to savory, sad, cause i feel like you're even a waste of toilet paper.
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every rhymes a joy to savour, you’re good but boy im greater
habitual poison taster, work under pressure like a boiler maker
I’m boys with Taylor, you soft as the toilet paper I’m soiling later
manic noise creator, smoking on dead vapes til my voice is vapour
to coin a phrase I’ll say fuck beef, it’s sirloins I savour
employing strangers to form tin hat conspiracies and foil your capers
ill destroy you later