Hawaii five oh how tight your tiki dolls fits out back, a greased pic’s roasting up in that open pit spit where spraying hot rocks bury the path and an avalanche scores a touchdown all over that tight end’s lap of luxury, a dribbling drainage ditch that screams ”ca$h only” so pass me a straw I’ll siphon that ol’ brady curse via mouth to mouth today’s the day our hamster exchange goes on lawaway wipe it up in your hair or ration a gulp a day, either way slutty poltergeists becon round two, vowing spit-shined tiki’s going back inside you!

 

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