I don't even think I'm whole back bro. I'm trying to eat every day. I'm talking about the neck, the face, the chest, the thighs. You know what? I identify as a chair. I wish you would sit on me unexpectedly so I could not breathe and smell the best lavender, lotion or coconut scent coming from between your legs. I'm trying to be that ass eater. I'm trying to eat. Call me the Coochie Man.

Oh my goodness girl you're so cute like you're so pretty like nowhere's stuff but you're mad fine and you got a body, period.

Hola!

Damn! You served! I'm a platter! Was I one song's fatherhood? Oh. She could rub my face on one nothing and return. Her body count, who she fucking never my concern.

Damn, like, are you trying to get together? Are you trying to link? Like, what are you trying to do? Cause, like, damn. Who said you could come out looking all good? Damn, girl, the smile. Like, like, what time did I pick you up? Hmm? What time?