Pw&Om

Blue jeans, check! Black-T, check! Record my raps on a cassette tape deck. Wearin' no sweats 'cause Nike owns Chucks. Three rows of studs 'cause hoes wanna fuh-! Axe to max on my nasty socks, synchronize with a text but I guess I'm blocked. I'd leave voicemail but it would just be mocked. Wake up my mom, dad'd clean my clock! "Hey, mom, it's me - no need for alarm. Gonna be a party that's the straight-up bomb. Here's your keys and your coat and Louis Vuitton." She's like, "Uggghhh...," and you know that it's on! She's gotta do some errands and a couple of chores, drop the videos off, hit the grocery store. "If your gonna be a bitch, trick, get on all fours!" "If you don't watch that lip, it's goodbye to your porn!" Word is born, say no worries and we're out in a hurry. I beg for Mickey D's, cold mac a McFlurry.