As soon as I talk about ***,
They slap a label of explicitly,
Yet *** is a natural beauty,
That has been distorted as raunchy,
A taboo subject that is nasty,
Yet has created you and me.
So, sorry not sorry.
Imma discuss about it G.
So, check it.
My girl wetter than a tsunami,
Wanting my pastrami,
Which works for me,
Because I’m hungry for her cookie,
So, ***** where *** and food,
Becomes a imbued deli.
Carnal creatures popping off their cherries.
******* on my jerky like it was bubble tea.
As I’m munching on her nectarine.
A embrace more savoury,
Than a crispy cream.
Taking it to the shower,
Because I like it when her buns are steamed.
I treat my girl like a Queen,
She is more than her body.
I know saying this, isn’t mainstream.
But it’s important to dig in to it,
Like it’s a bowl of vermicelli.
My girls compassion is sweeter than ice cream.
And her laugh bounces like jelly.
She is a powerful force that some men might find scary.
But I personally find it ****,
Because she completes me.
Where I lack she helps me.
When I cry she comforts me.
The only one who understands the real me.
She imbues the deli of my soul,
And keeps me grounded like gravity.