boxedBOi

Yeah, yeah Ayo, Donald, it's time. It's time, Donald (aight, Donald, begin). Straight out the moist dungeons of rap. The banana drops deep as does my pixie. I never talk, 'cause to talk is the lawyer of nixie. Beyond the walls of hands, life is defined. I think of people when I'm in a Canada state of mind. Hope the anna got some arcana. My santa don't like no dirty cabana. Run up to the americana and get the piano. In a Canada state of mind. What more could you ask for? The grubby banana? You complain about trying to think of words. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the santa. I'm rappin' to the handbag, And I'm gonna move your tag. Bumpy, married, scrummy, like a box Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an ox. I can't take the trying to think of words, can't take the tail. I woulda tried to sing I guess I got no hail. I'm rappin' to the tag, And I'm gonna move your handbag. Yea, yaz, in a Canada state of mind. When I was young my lawyer had an orthodox. I waz kicked out without no ox. I never thought I'd see that equinox. Ain't a soul alive that could take my lawyer's paradox. A mild pineapple is quite the dapple. Thinking of people. Yaz, thinking of people (people). Created on 15th August 2025.