Now, let's see if you heedin' the type'a game they run in Sweden.
Doors close at 5, home in time for suppa', it's a good'ass thing Cako poured'us a cuppa' – his realest shit, Vantablack muppa' – home of the stock, at home with his cock, pitch black with the lights out no matter whose sights out.
Take a fuckin' hike, crony, I count it in krona, took a stroll on Sesame Street, now I'm a blood dona'.
Now, I'm gonna' show you how to ace the interviews. Take a look around, take a walk in her shoes. Does it look to you like she got an attitude? Huh, wonder where she got it from, wonder if she wanted some, looks like she'already gotted cum.
16 years old? Just about right'a, you know me, I'm just about tight'a. On the pill? Guess what she's looking for: outta' the will – Smith – whiter than yours, whiter than sores, Slack'er then mores.
I print bills like the treasury, I hit fills like the Rush'ery, line 'em up, knock 'em down, got her fitted inna' gown. Baby, you know I'm tired, sure we still hit the town. Every'ass hitta', lookin' around, spinnin' some'ass reason that they wouldn't be down. No matter the weatha', bring home anotha' – you know there's nowhere to hide'a, make her sing fo' the bride'a, then sign they ass up for preferred provida'.