When your diamonds have diamonds.
And your hoes have hoes.
And your sprezzy has sprezzy.
What does that make you?
Prince Hamlet of this blog shit.
Pom paparazzi revenge.
So let me expound to you.
The story of Kate Middle-class
Is to be one woman picked out of ten thousand.
The only tragedy I see.
Is watching you try and get on my level.
Did some seeming virtuous queen help you twist that arm?
That shit’s practically settling, son.
Get thee’s wack ass to the steezery.
And get your cake up.
Because the only state that’s rotten.
Is that state of your motherf-ing wardrobe.
To steez?
Or not to steez?
Is not even a goddamn question.
I just pray.
That in the sleep of death.
All my swag’s remembered.
Cause to use something borrowed.
And something blue.
You are cheap homie!
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