||to clean good, too clean bad||

clean freak clean freak, got farts with no rhythm,
cuz yo butt crack so dry aint no battle within'em.

virtue signalling you prolly roam,
suffering health lack luster from toe to dome.

immunity immunizes only when it's challenged,
c.o.p.e your schedules, c.o.p.e yo habits.

a rhythm is good but a composition is great,
cuz unhappiness is a story that teens today fate.

relate as much as they do to yo unready n' sub-par,
fabricated evidence they present normalizing scar.

all while so comfortable in their sterilized cage,
guaging ones worth upon their sterilized wage.

cuz money buys everything including health,
or does it just pay off a doctor's medico debt.

clean freak clean freak health is scattered,
along the dirt, among crowds that mattered.

clean freak clean freak health is earned,
not by food but wether you glisten while it burn.

so clean freak clean freak im glad you tested normie,
imma leave you this while you figure yo pardox. i-not-sorry.

balls that swing in the breeze among trees,
pop cherry sublime while you jerk it to feet.

like child born naturally panic-eats fluid amniotic,
they ain't gon need pills, they grow wild, resilient, exotic.

so if this applies to you go faceplant in mud,
cuz ain't nothing healthy bout being jealous of a stud.

||to clean good, too clean bad||