Rolling blunts, like tears on a cheek,
When I climb this mountain, I hope this storm clears at the peak,
I hope when I make it the crowd cheers when I speak,
All fears bleak, as each of my weak ears,
hears bass, it clears my face, it steers my taste,
on my salty lips, so if my shaking knees shift to faulty hips,
my dirty toes, are like my wordy flows, unnecessary like flirty hoes, in pretty(perty) clothes,
my toes cringe, like if my bloodstream chose a syringe,
my bloodstreams is dying like if mud screams, red rum,
which is what it fled from,
afraid of murder as your head's numb, knuckle head, your heavy waist isn't cause your belt buckle's lead,
the head of your knuckle is back at your head quarters,
a quarter of the head of a quarter for the toll booth,
as your car fled the border,