Sly

If frisy hair was a metaphorfor festival timethen this woman is a goddessof that festival shrine, met her- at a jamin that garden of sorts

I must confess god blesssome impure thoughts“show us the money”was the call of the nightbut no money could have boughteven a piece of her pride, there mighthave been a sea of people

I don't know, becauseall

I could seewas how this woman she glowed so-

Aeh it's a pleasure to meet youya look like one incredible creaturewanna treat you finelets dance and grindget so funk-inflicted it's a crimeyou're divine you're sublimeand well you blow my mind

She caterpillar so goodthat all the greeks go “killa”break and enter take ya like a glass of milkthen “spill ya”saw her coming what a scenewhat

I mean isshe got that *** coffee beambut she tastes like vanillawell alright she ignitewhen we hit the floorlike the vroom on a

V8 super commodorenow if it makes a good storywell it's just worthwhilewith her's like dealing storiesin that sprinkla style and so-

Aeh it's a pleasure to meet youya look like one incredible creaturewanna treat you finelets dance and grindget so funk-inflicted it's a crimeyou're divine you're sublimeand well you blow my mind