Tara groups hoard, we scream, "Gimme da loot."
For once, it was found, we raise the boot.
Denying lines, we then, fit the suit.
Down low, we go, we find the flow, better now then never, we hear the bow...
N arrow, it hits, it feels legit.
Wondering why, it turned to crip.
Ignore that line, that was on me.
Struggling through terror, that hunny bee.
Then we read, weed, upstairs we go, our…
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