What do I have to say, with harness a foot-rest, best of bed, rest of bed, protein vs. wandered bread, instead of what comes ‘a’ ranting and ‘a’ raving (raging rod, pickled hard, latex to discard, lol a retard) to the climax of the hip-hop hill-top the hills, ne’er to be confused with the funky bunches of pills pills pills, all having glad, Same “Samuel Maxx” yeah him at the vibrant vivacity of a toiletries foreign to me, done be forgotten—livelong LIVESTRONG when Lance farted—having broken barriers (novodisk 3.5”) with a sumptuous trick—the sunny days of Willy Mays being a negroidally inept percent for the a-pickings of a straight-laced grimacing face, food on the plate, no periods, never late with a F-ing fist filled with hate, banged a broadcast and the ten-o’clock News, hey dude, hey dude, hey dude
Hardened hilltops—a winter prefix
And on and on and on but only to this wagers kept,
I hold my breath:
Snapped to the lingo, got that Gringo ??? being “The Grinch” with a pubescent PINCH an inch and you’re down at that—it’s no fun being SHORT—of sorts to snort a sniffle of sweetie-sweet-sweet Cane Sugar or 100% pure Dextrose
Here’s me with plenty of points for the pounds—big body, too big, big-ly with supplements you see, the GH+ arriving for me and at the door—$111 amounted, 30 pills counted:
“Frampton Comes Alive”
