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Last on The Plate If Lucifer can leave the trace of sulfur
Then tell me why he plays horns like Candy Dulfer Sure, you’ve got sugar walls, honey But, they speak too funny They gaze grandeur eyes So I’s grand your gays 1,000 chip supplies No “boytoys”, but “Lays” “Molded” bread, while donuts “B” glazed No “Wonder” we peel potatoes and “Dunkin’” plays For skin be bronze By sculpt, we clays I wore “A Few CK’s” other legs don’t foray “In hair, it’d mean that my moms could mâché For paper, she bought me the genes To walk “in-between” Because, Outside the washin’ machine Mine ain’t really clean | |
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