the air to peep through the glass, just like a serpent's neck on the grass.
Meg, bag, this is man your dad, we back in the west before them lick Django head,
for a few more dollars, not a one dad.
I playin' chips, I'm on a fled, I sing two or three kidneys,
tongue inna the west, tongue inna the west, while I party from them nests, them nests.
All of those, they will get back, tall bunty on to them trophy, them vest,
gold on diamond, wicked man intercept, suck up my suckle and decide to make a flex.