Another Nervy Survey'z comin' up to shock.
Eeeeahh. Shoot 'em up, do this pop, I'mma nuts, I'mma hot. Hit these snots off in a strofe laughing at they duck, And keepin' seeking these sneaky fences they gotta constructed. All is hidden, from fluffy nits till rotten slut inna blood. Little bit of a fit of a creep is not enough for Your trace. The claim is brakin' a base pride drops wrinkles to lips and face. Hey, where 'ave You came out inna faints. I just was playing. From the other phase this phrase iz for You, cuz it's notta game. You are notta fame, You are notta saint and blameless, insane. Have You seen a soften and drained babe-shit? You're the same. You are in stains as fully as clown painted ass-grimace. Be You lady or male, genital face has no any grades. You may say many delaying confess-phrases as though is lottery. Gotta dropper-slices threats suppose bringing seas of blood, but You look as droppings on a gaming-table. Get this shot, son of a slut's been rotten at first verse's block. Hope You've got it in a lot.