My hot dog’s dead.
My pizza’s dead.
My cupcake is dead.

My donut’s dead.
My burger’s dead.
My milk shake is dead.

All of our favourite foods are totally dead.
They cannot procreate in little food beds.
We’ll eat them up and turn them into stuff.

And we’ll cry over their graves, but you can’t cry enough.
When you miss someone you love, you can’t cry enough.

Username: tyannainfinity

Now this is the story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down.
And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there. I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-air.
In west Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground where I spent most of my days.
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool. And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school. When a couple of guys, they were up to no good, started making trouble in my neighbourhood. I got in one little fight and my mom got scared and said “You’re moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-air.”
I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said “fresh” and had a dice in the mirror.
If anything I could say that this cab was rare but I thought nah, forget it, yo homes to Bel-air!
I pulled up to a house about seven or eight, and I yelled to the cabby “Yo, homes smell you later!”
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-air