Don’t shade my shake baby.
I been heatin’ the dance floor
before you were born, before your mama
tasted the hot spat of tequila on her tongue.
I see you out there movin’ like a parakeet
in a windstorm, screechin’ just as loud.
You laugh, you smile, and you show those nipples
like a national treasure to be studied.
So you don’t like my words, my music you say,
not like the classics. Well hell
go back in your time rocket and make poetry great again
There’s nothing stoppin’ you, maybe some greenbacks eh?