I’m ‘bout to work my fire *** to ice
No need to guess, baby, or roll the dice
I pray like “dolla dolla make me holla”
That’s how I build it up with every caller
Ain’t no one’s gonna motivate your ***
You’re either sweatin’ or you get no sass
I earn them dollars just to stack them good
I don’t mind grindin’ as I know I should
I works from Monday straight to Friday night
Pick up the calls, fill up the tickets right
Here I acknowledge your sincere applause
Don’t touch my money with your ghetto paws
I’m way much flyer than the God’s big curse
If you can’t handle it then call a nurse
I came to work it down, Lord is my witness
Yeah, I gon’ slay like it’s nobody’s business

The slow jams are the waves
of a thousand words speaking
to my soul, midnight poetry
so hypnotizing and deep,
a smooth beat, the voice of
seamless bridges and reason,
high spinning sounds and
smoking vibes, dancing rides
and shimmering good times.  
I embrace the power of
the intoxicating slow jams,
the booming bassline and
rocking rhymes, the synchronicity
and drumming derivatives, thrilling
equations and stages, mind-blowing
metaphors and liquid languages,
squared syllables and swaying verbs,
blazing mazes and downtown and around
astounding notes.  This is my love,
the timeless escape into outer worlds,
an exploration and imagination, eternal
and divine, hip swinging and instrumental,
vocal slayage and iridescent rewinds,
gland slamming sheets of pure bliss,
seeping through my mind as I sink inside
it’s million infinities of fire jamming grooves.