Love | Hate

It’s angelic the way that my hands tell it

But damned hellish because I never could plan swellness

Expand wealthage and then demand helpings

Or in a jam healthless that limits a man’s belches

Give me a hand helpers envision a grand cellar

Built off the mad endeavors of villains and scam sellers

In minutes a clan enters with millions of band members

To physically deliver their fists to the crammed felons

This si for the you gotta shimmy to dance elders

And the sand dwellers who take for granted their lack of wrinkles

The natural singers that have a nack for the raps they brings us

And the average inkers rather that chat with imagined English

Dramatic acts at centers that craft over snapping fingers

And the braggart spitter cats that attract us with catchy rhythms

Exact precision accent delivers to active listeners

Or detached from them he scats to the genders with lavish whispers

I have to get her, happily together, lasting forever

Matter ‘ fact forget her actually so never, I’d rather dead her