bufula

Dug out Dumps when they double dirty; your muddy clumps, muddled head murky Much of the running water, rusting my bed, I'm turned and stuck Studded legs, leaking pen and a stuffy nose; I'm throwing Lead, less suppose to be gutted, fro needed cutting; wasn't Near the fucking clutch to end and blow my shit, my tone ain't even Fit or at least what I think; not for a lending presence, stick to a Foreground, but rather for the back of vids, so slacking pissed be Fore now, maybe still in bro's; filling void mixing mist, be keeping Company, "guzzle cheese before you hear a couple breathe" Weakening my priorities, speaking breeze not for long on lease Seeking people; ceased afford to see, winter fleece in that store for me Hopeless only this Christmas eve, told me it's over living these Moments and days, throwing the prayers, those was my staying grace Playing slowly down graves when no gripping means on my mains of my Own values, stone statue when given the groaned "tell you"s Makeshift decision so I ain't expect a salutation; tame Spit delivers ain't what I use to, a bag of die hard Bitter begging patches; willing to use just only as bruised food Booze dishes, soon to be wishing for hooping back but losing Swishes, sick back at trips laid, fist lacks a switch Blade, sip nade but slips today, piss poor to pick to Pack up cos I'm afraid, say it's bitch made, a bit stale Big failure to keep my pennies from score, cos now I'm kept from Flourishing around that mall today Amd doing more today How many times can I count the times tripping? Shit Mouth wide the minimum, my Freddofrog ribbiting Outside the minimum, headstrong feel different Today, ribbons aren't for fitting for a shoelace Spoilt - you sealed down in my Consciousness, my meal not really filling for they stomach, gills is Killed for a pocket filled with tears, here on far end of my Dearest way of knocking shit down Clear out for a park in pen, steering allowed go loosely now in Darkened seconds droogie dropping food, that's fuel; the larger crumbs go Wasted - who go mask us then; No Hearing for a bark but sense, feel like Horton, real unsorted Rooms full I embarked right in; it's doomed, slump a fired imp, I'm Tired limp a cartridge in a Super shottie; ski mask fighting, trunk don't fit a re-up, sit Ironic that a punk go say it's peanuts so he Struggling, gun pumping - shit Mood ain't cocky; face the other way, fear run the other pen Deals with a jotting pad; stupid pins go calm in clutch I'm feeling Moves in a carcass; ringing Sealed in those fingers, I'm bringing meals for my niggas never Real for a picture then, and shit you pray I'm really built for it all They find my language foolish crude If you think I'm speaking nonsense just note she thinks I'm fluent too I don't need you spilling teardrops through my telephone