Vampire bullet

Black and white kinko copycats. Jacknife plinko to bring the money back, honey that’s a mystery or minstrel. Makes no sense like History channel reality shows. And reality blows when you’re working 9 to 5 cleaning toilet bowls. Shit or get off the pot. Another way to say make up your damn mind. Life can be unkind, we all know that and if we all know what Bo knows then we all know rap. All star whether with a football or a baseball bat. I bet he hates all that. Rather go pro being myself than be an idiot trying to be somebody else.

Fame called too but got a busy signal. Is he single? Nobody’s asking that. Stoners hit on bongs and then on hacky sacks. Wickety-wack tracks made by sissy science cats. Rice crispy, sticky-icky, Saturday, Luda raps. Who was that? Magnetic mellifluous wordsmith SAT. Vocab to rehab to bring the 80s back. Empty cap guns spit quick puns, son. Nothin’ to do but run from the blast. Volcano flow. Spit hot lava till your brain’ll blow. Rock cocainal though. Or K9 rhymes bearing teeth at your tanlined sandal feet. Downey brand bleach your sheets quicker than gentrified neighborhood meet and greets. To all my peeps. Rockin’ jeeps. Down the street to the beach. Save a Corona for me. I’ll bring the limes and good times but the bud will be out of reach. Keep carving a niche. Best is yet to come so I’m starving the streets. Best there ever was? Naw, that’s Shad’s decree. But silver never tasted so good. The vampire bullet is me.

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