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