Okay, one more time. I’m lion-hearted, firestarter, wake you up I’m quite alarming. Horns blowing, long going, let’s take another flight tomorrow. One way in, no playing, don’t got another life to borrow. So all cash in, hand on delivery, my final offer. John Gotti rings, John Bon Jovi strings, God does know I’m him. I lost once then resolved it, spin back the revolver. Ten toes my feet grounded, sink pain and dissolve it. I took winning a few feet farther, I always finish up where we started. Our hands together for the departed. And if I fall it’s a recharger, while some talk others listen for some deep knowledge. I’m on the streets but the kicks always be polished. Yeah, I could smile here with three dollars. Columbia with the ski collar. Go over mountains and three feet of lava, the Mets meet the Dodgers. Put bets on the under. To upset in numbers, the colors blue and orange. The world could be perfect with debts free for college. Politeness and hospice, where protests would prosper. The gospel and opera. While some are yelling church too many live in boxes. We’re still here evolving.

Ayo. Look, I’m brave-hearted, firestarter, son of a martyr. Mel Gibson, well lit and, we still hitting. For everyone who never listened, learn your lesson later. The sharpest knife from in the kitchen when I’m dressed in Gators. God bless my haters. I see you less than later. So if you know what’s best you best be on your best behavior. I’m like a breath of fresh air from a respirator. This shit is second nature. DJ caress the faders. We never question data. Been on the quest for paper, and just like Jess and Slater, I bet you I can save a baddie by the Bell. You can tell I’m ‘bout to roll of fatty by the smell. They tried to buy the board but the game is not for sale. Want me to stop or fail, bumboclaat rot in hell. I love to get around in London spending British pounds. Shoot the gun or sit it down, kid ain’t no middle ground. The young arsonist. Always sparkin’ shit. King of late night on some John Carson shit. I cut a [n-word] from his neck to spleen like a ex-marine for the extra cream, it’s me.

Koncept. Switzon the Great. Believe.

Vibrations... and we can feel vibrations... but how do they reach our ears as sound.