You can't rock this purple tie
With the green surprise
'Round the belly sash
You can't take the pink cake flavor
To a rave in S.L.A., okay?
You can't blow the smoke sky high
To the next best guy
In the line outside
You can't limo up and stretch
You're just a mess
You're a straight up mess
I can rock the blue shoe combo
Samba in my new black slacks
Attacking dance floors
Scoring more tours
Of mansions in the B.H.Z.C
So you don't wanna try to tie me
Feel the snap
Of the finish line
You can't rock it
Like I rock it
You're cooked, kid
'Nara
The look's all mine
No comments:
Post a Comment