 Contrast class, no, that was it, that was your life Rude awakening Yeah, yeah, explanatory, interplanatory Same shirt, different day, different category Different patterns on my rings, made of satin Satin sheets, got your latin bitch climbing Slamming bitches in the back of my cabin Losing track of how many gases I'm grabbing and shabbing I'm like a latin mixing Ricky Hatton The white wooded gallon, it's a mini jack Drinking, scramping by the bloody gallon Drunk by rations and in ten bags from a terrorist house The white Richard Branson, he's like Hitler, but he's handsome He's Hitler's bloody grandson, he's holding Hitler's sister ransom with his nifty hanger Don't make him mention Don't make me mention I came back wearing engines from the fifth dimension It's a viral infection My shins have twisted, the wings have lifted Viral drifting to a bigger picture I'm an artist, conscious artist Top priests from the Far East partied But we're at the after party We got the Changa started The whole session seemed to stop the way it bloody started The magic wind, Hitler's gin God's Gus, no, felting in Let me just explain one thing Let me just explain one thing I'm cheating on your bitches Miss is back to kiss the Christian It's the bright sun enlisting fresh out of prison White shoes, white socks, dressed with precision Deliver Indian sniffing wisdom, blinded with the rhythm Colitis, drop it when I'm in tanga's dressing Tropical, hydroponic, bewendering free my system But right now, really need you people to listen Let me explain this one thing In case you're hearing it different So you came from the distance, brought the soul of the system Then I created the language, I'm giving birth to resistance So yeah, I'll be baking a sandwich But all these girls are persistent They became in my class as a ripped skirt Top bae, top vine, top piece, top pine Top shelf, top swine, top teeth in its front time It's crunch time and I'm wrestling The fried chicken sizzling When it's lunchtime and catering I'm the number one spindling I'm finger-winded girls face at the train station No explanation for the conscious gas I'm respiratin', filled with gas Without a bloody hesitation Riven full speed till I reach the destination The magic wind Hitless gin Guts, guts, no Falling in Let me just explain one thing Let me just explain one thing Fuck this in love with a dove So this is dove love I'm a duck, I'm in love