aye ima boom bap this beat, peep the dude who snaps a track to sleep, the ink jots will sling, and reach like stings from bees, my heads shoulders soul is hot with frozen feet, beetle juices flows to creep, he goes in sneaks inside of home alone, my dome is gone of smoking trees, fruit roll up green, so cold and frozen elsa wouldn't even let it go to me, goto an Eskimos home and pack and throw some balls on snow, at his upholstery, give his igloo some smoking heat, now this frost bite got a hold of me, mind is spinning like rotisserie chicken but my skin is to thick to poke and soak with blood to drink, Dracula mind that thinks, batshit the ways how I think I can try to be