#1 Headband

If it ain't broke I try not to fix And if not provoked I try not to diss We might have some hope like a dropping star wish But we on a slippery slope like an avalanching cliff I can keep it conventional if you want But I got more up my sleeve than a magician who got Four arms, milking this I adore farms The chick I never sweat her, she stitched together with poor yarn Needle in a haystack in a foreign barn Por favor poor flames from the volcano where my brain was My names up in her mind, her makes ups reapplied Body language be the picket line I'm a boss so i see the signs and proceed to redefine Alcohol at my place, not liqour something to wipe foundation she left on my face I had my few occasions I can count as a loss But the juice in my possession now I mix it with sauce Hey Side dish, put that where the mic is, dinner time Run tracks like the last second of the audio is the finish line My admission, in your future i see submission Provided in scenarios in which i shall condition Clclcl cloud surf like its top gun Almost like i'm Kenyan think i'm in this for the long run My perception learn the twists of the profession So my collection stacks the cheese like chips at a concession Hey! If you sought to challenge me You may end up cut in three Talking to the head man Number one Headband I want the dead, presidents A lot to get, Honcho, Head Number one headband, Number one Headband Question question they inquire how do it feel to make power moves Good as mosquito bites underneath your shower do Itching for another come up losses just be skin deep Vomit all my thoughts on paper shit look like some corned beef No type no type, mean what I write Pull that broad if she kinda chunky I Drop wood like a lumberjack if I swing and a miss it'll prolly stump me I wish I could meet you lovely ladies for lunch And touch you deeper than some tacos when you dranking too much I kiss ya ear cuz I care while i'm grabbing your thong Don't get it twisted you'll be shaking like i'm slamming a gong Senora Bounce like golf balls to concrete Spit to a crowd till nose hairs turn frosty as freezer burn Flame tracks recording sessions I need an urn High grade, pay extra to smoke off a decent fern Up like a drone attached to George Jetson I'm so cold that when I flow hypothermia sets in Dick the opposite of lonely if anything it gets left in Couldn't leave that out I had to stab at every spectrum Aye as I astound the booth Young chick squirting thats a fountain of youth Around the roof height with a level headThat puff puff pass smell like deviled eggs Senora Run tracks like the last second of the audio is the finish line