Thursday, March 22, 2012

The inflation.

my thoughts strike in a form of a rhyme and fine flowing, I am lowing in my driver seat thinking about a honey, she can't be with me right now, maybe later, am I being served like a waiter, ain't no playing amongst these haters, You thought of cooking weight, what will be the rate after the inflation, for me to get paid? I made up my mind to grind.

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