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Yeah your ketchup's in the bag
And her check is in the mail
Now I hope your chicken's
Raw inside
And I hope the bun is stale
Now I'm suppose to tell you
Please come back
But how bout instead
I hope you both choke
On a pickle
Man that would tickle
Me to death
I don't know what your
Waitin' on
You're holdin' up the line
No you ain't got no
Change comin' back
Are you out of your mind...
Love,
Alycia aka *Fatima* |
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