R.19

Flatline, death emoji less Vegas trips. Dollar signs and three packs of X in a lift. High line and careless, runners gut awareness. My time with P, no dogs would dare this. Reckless two ratios with none other than case closed. Opened up, never was, all of it just say so. 2 am touchdown with hooligans rush hound, switch it up, smash a cup bump fist pound. Bounce back out of trap town, run it back for the get down. Realize I ain't gotta do it like this now. Who am I to say I ain't blessed by the man with the crown. Prayed up, won't let another play crutch, I'm not bound. Way up on my way up, stay clutch.

R.17

Noir, no irie, bon jour, majestic sightings. Jaws floored, my lips are biting. Wardrobe award, a bit exciting. Eyes through an image evoke a feeling, no less than enticing. The world around your fore, be blessed, it's more inviting. Lookin right, face forward, nudge to the left, all perfect timing. Glamour galore, a bit like death, black out, it's so confiding. You make it so easy for the lore, so much so, take this as to your liking. All Saints points to an angel, more like a guys queen. So let us all explore how much you adore, the best yet to expect most likely. Coming from a girl like you, the next epic outing. Applause to your team and more, excellence in bouting, best of the best, ain't no one's doubting.

R.16

Immaculate inception of a time when I had depression, deflectin them whistlin, my bad I'm just straight progressin. Time is a bitch, them days of plottin and schemin to get rich, the block is hot, dodgin them bullets, one time I got nicked. The thoughts of a lick, plunders of a young and dumb wonder, is kicked. Spots like a quick pick, trying to get my numbers up, any random one out of the six. Power, ball, clockin them hours, I seesaw, goin up when I get down is how I won't ever, won't fall. Back to the game, I zoom right by ya, cocaine. Stacks on stacks I blow it all, Cobain. Til the death of it, mind over matter, use your fvckin brain. Good head on my shoulder, even under the weather, cold rain. Don't tether me to your network, you narc'd out, don't blame. What's that though, don't mention it, strike that yo. Redacted, matter of fact it, leave it in the casket, move forward, flashback flow.

R.14

Gully ass gal with that sully sudden style, muddy ass pals with that click clack shootin growl. Stacks of photos, digital wall facts of pro pose. Lit as wax I suppose so. She so sass O lord knows. Crescent moon shades, forever essence a loomin spade. Her sets a lesson of gettin paid, makin money portraying her natural ways. Fvck session is out the question, soap play. Foes lessen she beckons who, what want fade. I bet the best bet is the present, swoon, hot she got grade. Face to face is what me ought say.

R.13

She's on another level, mind you she squads the rebels, so sincere and dear say hello she devil. Rosy fvck rose pedals, woesy so she sews em seams down stilettos, whoa she throw them mean ass m.o's. Motives loud as treble, bezel bout that yen dough. No amount will bend though, unlimited game no pretendo. Woke up, wolvin boss bold. Woven gold emboss soul. She takes you higher than what life holds, it might as well be life's goals. She soaks in that sight, heavy glow. A throne for the night, herself, a dope abode.

R.12

California dreamin', wonders, lust in the season, where adolescence become G's and, city clocks in the evenin'. Through the thick of it, squeamin', blunders, bickering, and heavin'. What must of it, greivances, from dusk of being lit, perceiving is a gift. I'll trust you with a lift, the take off is straight leanin'. When Yeezus jumpin' over Jumpman, the recess is sorta like Trump man, billion dollar design from a creative sorta mind. Wake up is what the conspiracist says, the take up is what a lyricist weds. No matter what slides in life, remember, you don't have to dream twice.

R.11

She got bows on her feet, kicks imported on fleek, weather or whether, her purpose is the streets, fashionably chic, eighty two percent freak. Whenever her blog speaks, she's destined for greatness week over week. Don't mind the madness that is each in that we seek, the heart is hell, not for those who are often weak. Bob and tell, the apple isn't so reeked. Mobbin' BLZ, flashback forward modern 70's heat. Wavin' that flame, she's got that passion beyond game, it's a lifestyle,  nothing in it is preached.