Love | Hate It's angelic the way that my hands tell it But damned hellish because I never could plan swellness Expand wealthage and then demand helpings Or in a jam healthless that limits a man's belches Give me a hand helpers envision a grand cellar Built off the mad endeavors of villains and scam sellers In minutes a clan enters with millions of band members To physically deliver their fists to the crammed felons This si for the you gotta shimmy to dance elders And the sand dwellers who take for granted their lack of wrinkles The natural singers that have a nack for the raps they brings us And the average inkers rather that chat with imagined English Dramatic acts at centers that craft over snapping fingers And the braggart spitter cats that attract us with catchy rhythms Exact precision accent delivers to active listeners Or detached from them he scats to the genders with lavish whispers I have to get her, happily together, lasting forever Matter ‘ fact forget her actually so never, I'd rather dead her