For Clare in Chicago.

One of my close close close friends wanted me to write for her, so I did.

Clare-bear. Clare's there.
Over in Chicago.
'Splainin' to do like Ricky Ricardo.
But no one loves Lucy.

It's Clare now, I guess.

Girl's a clean slate. No sins to confess.

Purity's her gig, and she's sticking to it.

Even with the flock of guys screaming "LES DO ITTTT!"

Keeps a sane brain.
Best looking broad up in the rap game.

Straight up G, battles me.

Toe to toe with the most of most.

Persistent till the business is done like a ghost.

My Angel Rocks Back And Forth.

Four Tet titled it, but I believe it more.

Rocking back and forth over text message slamdowns.

This girl works for what she wants, no desire for a handout.

She'd chew you up and spit you out.

Counter tear your lines, before they leave your mouth.
She can battle thats for sure, so don't test.

She doesn't strap a gun, but you'd leave with holes in your chest.

Step up to the pedestal, if you think you're worthy.

She'd drink you dry, watch you die, or laugh when you get scurvy.

Taste the mic for the first round lockdown.

Because this girl has the one punch knockouts.

But on the real though, this girl's crazy sweet.

Give you diabetes and rot out all your teeth.

So go ahead and take a bite, if you think you can take it.

But be careful of your ego. She might just go and break it.