@john-mccaig-8575331 your song🔥fr i can repost it on my instagram @wehypedyou dm me

Yo, shorty came outta nowhere - red hoodie, no nav
Paper skin, but moved like she knew the math
No heels, just Airs scuffed up by fate
One balloon floatin’, like she runnin’ late
Wolf at the door in a three-piece lie
Sniffin’ the air like the truth got high
Not coke - nah, bro - that’s market greed
Sotheby’s drip got him itchin’ to feed
 

Gold frame on her like a coffin made chic
Mouths open wide, paddles click every beat
They ain't bidding for soul, they auction the tease
Each nod a confession, each glance a disease
 

🎵 The urge to destroy is also a creative urge
🎵 Hit the gavel once - watch the paper surge
🎵 Through the blades she flew, no scream, no dirge
🎵 Just lust and a frame... and a whisper: “Purge”
 

Man said: “Sold!” - then the wall split clean
Shredder teeth ate her like a guillotine
Crowd froze - half shocked, half lit
“Is that… part of it?” - yo, no one quit
Wolf wiped his nose, grinned like sin
Said “This piece? It's rare. Let the bidding begin.”
Art ain't a painting, it's a flex with a tag
And destruction? Just another red flag
 

Golden frame like a trap for grace
She ain’t gone - she escaped the place
Paper fallin’ like ashes in light
And the wolf just laughed: “Yo, that’s tight.”
 

🎵 The urge to destroy is also a creative urge
🎵 Hit the gavel once - watch the paper surge
🎵 Through the blades she flew, no scream, no dirge
🎵 Just lust and a frame... and a whisper: “Purge”
 

They thought she was lost.
But she slipped through the rules.
Turned knives into ink.
Now her silence schools fools.

Lot #7  (Balloon Girl Banksy)

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Todos los derechos reservados.

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