Night rhymes commit
mind crimes
with ah spiced line, and some white wine, like its prime time,
to slam dunk a ***** off your bucket list
hittin 106
lookin sun-kissed
in Seattle's mist
catch me singein mah self
I'm in such crucial stealth
gotta prove your wealth when you're on this shelf
get him gushin in gravey like
I dare you to taste me...
No ***** ever replace me