BLOW

The lyrics are all mine.
The image was generated using Leonardo.ai.
The voice and music were generated using Suno.com.

Find my original entire book of rap here:
https://www.amazon.com.au/Sales-Pitch-Matthew-Vandenberg/dp/1685830749

Here are the original posts, from 2016:
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17s3BZntoL/

#LeonardoAI
#Suno
#SalesPitch
#BookOfRap
#SuitcaseStore
#Travel
#Obsession
#Rap
#Lyrics
#AlbumDrop
#LGBTQI

BLOW

I'm subdued;
up for you/
Speak up, for you/
You're my shrooms/
Space out wit' me,
in spacing out/
Take the space out
from between us two/

Can my nasal cavities take gravity to your teeth?/
Can a whole diaspora live and breathe in, while totally living in a diastema; seemingly in between these teeth?/
Kay, can you spray?;
your breath hit my face?, like mace/
You can keep things bottled up,
then explode, like a grenade/
I'm game/
I'd take it all in,
like it's a delivery of dates/
I ain't talking ownership/
I own no ship,
and don't sail on champagne/
Let your foot come down,
like rain on grapes,
coz your sweat's so exotic,
and I crave a taste/
Is there some whine lately?,
coz I crave an American-made chaser; high-speed chase,
to feel like I'm staying in the U.K.,
coz your fruity breath's intoxicating,
without any alcoholic aid,
or digestive shots for the taking;
for taking in eggs meant for my face/
If holding shots of your bated breaths in,
your intention is so base; a base aim,
I'll need to lose face to find them,
in touching all bases to get off; in a daze;
get laid, in my way;
head toward you; interstate,
as you touch, and play, all bases,
only to get off base/
Take it from me when I say
that I only want to take your breaths away/
Why is that so hard a gay takeaway for babes?/
I'm not a guy after penetration,
coz it's only for vile breaths that I ache/
But your complaints about a lack of political debates at the workplace,
can create the bass for the amplification of what I say/
I'm fine with base pay from nine to five, and fines,
if you want to stand over my face and masturbate/
I'm not running, like I'm running a store,
but maybe I'll make it to an eighth base/
I want you over me forever,
in whatever way you're for/
Sure, the store's suitcases are great,
but players take the floor not on display,
coz a better arrival than that of a plane
is when babes come here again and again,
for the duration of a holiday/
I sell glasses too/
I need to master, and a master's in, too, asking you to see me better soon/
Can we be our own masters; past needing men; kneading pricks and muscle after muscle?/
I gentlemanly move through doors when I come, coz it's after you; I'm after you/
But you see me as a friend,
and only for afternoons,
just because of my fair gender, and agenda,
but some female sex is what you best should open your heart to/
It's fair to say that a fair amount of fair and square sex, in eating fare best, and lusting after next breaths, can engender us faring beautifully; squaring sharp remarks, which are astute/
I'm being blunt;
on a loop,
like blending into your cunt;
and spitting a better device for you to use,
with spitting being far wiser to suitably do/
I wanna be your natural wetsuit,
in hugging you,
like I hug to this truth,
like we'll screw lube/
Kayla, your front has me confused,
coz I keep running back to you,
like your front's a warm group/
I'm having no luck on the climatic front,
like it's climactic blows,
thanks to a muse/