Tell me that you knew it baby; that it'd feel this good,
we've opened up each other in those ways that feelings could,
exposing prose in vocals like how any realness would,
especially when you think of how it is to feel it good.
Lay back and give your mind to me because it's time for play,
remember this is realness darlin'; ain't got time for games,
my head's between your thighs with that torrential kind of rain,
to have you feeling high as if you've done a line of 'caine.
No man has come correctly with the tongue to bring your blood,
skyrocketing to Heaven like The Cunning Linguist does,
relax and close those peepers and just think about the sound,
it makes to lick your essence clean and think about it now.
It feels as if you're floating don't it? See not many guys,
can take you up like helium balloons in windy skies,
to then arrive; my dear there's no such thing as empty time,
my "it" is more than knowing how to stack a penny wise.
It's masturbation for your mental; let your mind run free,
there're way worse things to do out there than give your time to me,
as I will give you mine; at given times I'll give you rhymes,
and killing time with all the things that have you feeling fine.
So think of how it's feeling when I use my lips and tongue,
and make you wet the bedsheets as we have our vicious fun,
your brash and cunning liguist who's for certain off the chain,
by telling you which thoughts are good for jerkin' off your brain.
©2017