Holy Ghost

She wears a four leaf clover around her throat like a choker

Does she want me or not?

This shit is feeling like Schroder

Told her come over like Rover, I've got the goods like a grocer

And when I open the box, already know that it's over

I'm smoking gas out the motor, cause bitch I'm running off solar

Still could catch frostbite off my breath, I'm more cold-blooded than polar

You cannot keep your composure, around me shit's moving slower

If life's the piece, I'll compose her

Or poet this, like I'm Homer

Never sober, even when I'm sober

I am motivated to go make the cash to buy a diamond molar