| Probability | Text |
|---|
| 99% | Let each note I now play be a black arrow of death, strike straight to the hearts of all those who play false metal. | ▶️ |
| 100% | Now some of you guys might be surprised at what I'm about to say and say. Who is this lame who says he knows the game? And where did he learn to play? | ▶️ |
| 98% | Backing together with rain for 40 days, Aye I like Slain's, but I can't show no pain. My headache, enormous proportions, The size of a bucket, painkillers can't touch it. Show what my little brother's gone. Now I'm torn apart as I stand with the knife. At my heart, we shared the good and the bad times. When walls broke out to the store, it was half time. Remember she came back, yo, And we got beatings with the Hot Wheel Track. I felt the hurt from your own predicament. Lost the scholarship, can't play pro board with torn ligaments. Career suddenly ended, your goal was offended. Suicide, death tips recommended to try black, But you were not versed as we blessed the earth. So let us pour the wine, preventing suicide. So | ▶️ |
