From afar, the bar, The Neptune "Sars."
The Injun, the car, my SON goes to War.
Like Flash, the Roc-Nation Gas, to lap a heathen.
It's called schizophrenia, in other words, ur not reading.
Ur bleedin' down to the hip, the glass Set(s) nicely.
That's when she left, she moves at lightspeed.
Highspeed chase, to lace, ur bound.
Confused when I tell you that ur skin is like Krusty the KKKlown's.
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