This bastard speaks nonsense in the kitchen
Discussing with insanity is not a level for me
Fuck off, I don't need your sects,
Crushed streets
You say I'm cold as a fridge
I don’t share my heat
I like to pump heat out of you
I can force you to do it here and now
The harsh flower spread from my womb to my neck
She strangles my neck at the line of self-determination
You are not destined to inhale it
You can't decide when to uproot its roots ...
You don't have the right to judge me
My lust is limited, my body is too
Don't talk, hypocrite.
I don't believe you.