The night is cold
I write with bold letterings and fight with coal
But my love dedication is like a thug's determination
Mug lamentations like "fuck condemnation"
Flowers bloom and my power soon will devour the moon
Coward loom away like I was the darkest cloud
The farthest shroud of Bre engulfs my thriving passion
Never dying, baddest motherfucker making bitches crying; mad and
Run from the police with a gun in hold-piece
They call me Fa-Q and I've written lots of stories
Burning pots of corny raps and my scent got her horny
Caught the boring hip hop fans in a wine bottle
Fine models hopping up and down like a light rattle
The last verse I'm spitting like a kite in the
Air suspended like a mayor banned from his own city
Lone kitties I discover and hug, then fuck her and bust
Mutter these cuts; so "high" I "hover" and thus
I show love to girls and throw gloves to the world
Like "Fuck the Globe" and thus I know than my luck is gold
The spring blossom makes pretty girls sing "Possum"
Text with "fring", lot of bitches try to get me on their contacts, hah
But I only love Bre; fought tactics and got latex condoms
Ponder-ing the secret of life in the fetus of light
Two verses done already but I still haven't fucked Betty
Shooting parodies like feuding with Carey and looting Mary