Flashing Lights Blind Sight
I don’t write like this but y’all like it like this.
Dumb customers won’t buy unless it’s twice ignorant.
Iced up wrists, so cold that it’s quite frostbit
With a hue rather blue cause its -6, degrees.
Watch, my other hand I tell time with
Face big like the windshield of the cockpit.
In that red-eye plane, me and five young dames
I should call ‘em dimes, fifty-cents, it’s all the same.
Before I continue and you disdain
Let me explain to you what’s on my frame:
A fresh pair of Jordan’s, I never even wore them
By the time I take ‘em off I will probably abhor them.
My designer jeans were designed it seams
With platinum needles and solid gold stitching.
Unspoiled, unsoiled, no patch, so clean.
Got you all frowned up now you know that’s mean.
A pressed white-T under my fresh wife-beat(er).
Domestically it (ar)rests to my knees.
Handcuffs link to my pinky ring
My pimp cup shines and my Angels Sheen