As is the case with just about every dressing recipe of mine, I like to make it in a jar with an immersion blender
There is a layer of double-sided tape on the back of the light strip
The volume of the skirt allows for freedom of movement, especially when participating in dances like the traditional cumbia or soca
[Instrumental Interlude: Mike Dean Guitar Solo] [Verse 3: Rick Ross] Lookin' at my bitch, I bet she give your ass a bone Lookin' at my wrist, it'll turn your ass to stone Stretch limousine, sipping ros all alone Double-headed monster with a mind of his own Cherry-red chariot, excess is just my character All-black tux, nigga's shoes lavender I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders Had cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wired (Uh) Before his jaw shattered, climbing up the Lord's ladder We still speedin', running signs like they don't matter, uh Hater talkin' never made me mad Never that, not when I'm in my favorite paper tag Therefore, G4s at the Clearport When it come to tools, fool, I'm a Pep Boy When it came to dope, I was quick to export Never tired of ballin', so it's on to the next sport New Mercedes sedan, the Lex' sport So many cars, DMV thought it was mail fraud Different traps I was gettin' mail from Polk County, Jacksonville, right in Melbourne Whole clique appetites had tapeworms Spinnin' Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my J burns I shed a tear before the night's over God bless the man I put this ice over (Uh) Getting 2Pac money twice over Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice-roller I'm makin' love to the angel of death Catchin' feelings, never stumble, retracin' my steps (Uh) Put your hands to the constellations The way you look should be a sin, you my sensation, haha Haven't said a word, haven't said a word to me this evening Cat got your tongue
