Home Is Where You Make It

let me think about it..

let me think about it..

spittin’ game..

which is odd cause I’m the type to be awkward, but we sit and kicked it like handicap soccer. but neither of us were rollin’. actually I was sober. been too broke to send a text that said “send it over” so I was like the opposite of high, maybe lower. but anyways, she looked right, act right, smile had a gap - tight. thighs had a gap too. thighs feelin’ weak when she lookin’ dead at you.. still managed to set a date to see her again, besides the fact that she had a boyfriend. then I go home, hit the pc, and creep.. just to realize she turns 17 next week. fuck.

swear this song starts every time I think of you..

One day I’ll find a girl to smoke and watch the price is right with.. and then we’ll cook breakfast and eat on the couch for let’s make a deal.. then we could fuck through the soap operas and fall asleep to some talk show.