Finding The One

A young lad must take it back to his roots
That bitch bad, fake ass but still toots
She belongs to the streets
Sucking too many flutes
I’m still craving them cheeks
I’m still craving them glutes  
Got a microchip dick
But that shit still computes  
Got a chocolate chip tip
But lick it and cum shoots
I discourage a hoe
From sucking my hairy root
Encourage you though,
To walk down the scary route
Detour to the nuts
They need an electrocute  
The cables she puts
On my ripe forbidden fruit
Stretch out my sack
Catch wind like a parachute
Lay on my back  
When will she execute?
Will she torture my sack?
Should I call in a substitute?
My strainer of back
Does not like this prostitute