Sick Desire

My desire be drugs as I'm lying 'in bugs, no crying, I'm tough...

Loads of lying and bluff.

When I'm closing my eyes I see stuff with 'a three dove.

I free puff..

"Go with me, love".

The flow be me glove, it fits me to a T.

Does blow with Whitney, that hoe sing shit, B, didn't make it to 50...

I instantly grit my teeth when it hits me..

Like the trilogy is complete so it lifts me.

Solar winds didn't shift when ripped me..

Concrete couldn't sink me..

Oblique kick to the rib, see my unique trick.

Be my technique sic*? I think my technique sick.