Testo She Got, She Got Agents Of Good Roots
She got something sick on down beneath her skin
Was it right for her to freak and (frequently) let me in
Was it right for her to turn my brass (grass / ass) to sin
Ponies on the beach right back into her head
One more drink and we slip back into her bead
But does that mean that I canât slip into another trance
And completely take a trip into your eyes and I will turn you onto
Mother donât you know Iâm a slave to that soul
Mother donât you know Iâm just a fool to be your slave
Mother donât you know Iâve got to dance on that grave
Mother donât you know Iâm a slave to that soul
Rubies on a ring all make your lips get wet
So I rap a string of pearls on down around her neck
Take it in your arms and you can feel her thrust (crush)
A twisted psychophonic (? ? ? ) love of vixen lust