i get up

i get up smile with the p my style pick up got the satine tight 5 witness the beef stalk alive i tighten up my cape as i rise its common to the clulture chicken deep fried delicate when i spit dimes chow down time I like my meat dark brown shaped with a frown cuz it hold alot of freight words fleshy great taste ground grey whatxh me speak listen to what mark say the pen stroke mossy oak recipes productive raw oysters i saulte and stir fry the stem a tasty texture cratetn written lectures there aint chef better cash rules im the shit like toadstools dizzy cooking consistent soul food the filter cheesecloth dip take cover as the grove gather in the harvest I told ya not start shit status big boy hooks on he boy natural observee processing thru the skimmer my split a ticky tap i spit wicked rap my brain strain a hot themometer in the game a thick sugar rush name never yield my aime this amuter got game a beast you cant tame bodying beats and eat the reamins