I'm blasting off to the moon when I reached third gear I about damnit disappeared hit the nitrous when I turnt the curve and blew the skirts up on some thick chicks, they laugh as I blew kiss than I left them in a dust drift pedal to metal man I'm whylin, styling, profiling like a Stallion fish telling through your intersection Candy paint so damn hot the whip under Christine possession
©mr.poet
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