To ice the blocc, the Roc, and the Bourne.
Foreign to the touch, to be born for more.
What do I want? A front and a passport.
To leave for LA, after the battle in court.
And it's the Snowman, but this ain't Yung Jock.
Confused on the cock, or the cockle doodle do?
Do ya got Milk? Does ur cow go moo?
And did ya know Sub-Zero's suit was the color blue?
Now the verse on you, this ain't ur match.
You wanna be my wingman? Too bad, I don't catch.
Because she's strapped with Heineken on tap.
Try to cross me, get ur ass clapped.
Now it's a rap, and the plastic Reynolds Wrap.
Not to back track, but it's a mile a minute.
This the Harris campaign with Palpatine in the Senate.
So now I'm finished, here's the last sentence.
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