Recent reviews by Drip Van Winkle

10cups out of 10

Yo

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready

To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'

What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud

He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out

He's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now

The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow!

Acid the game...

Pure nostalgia......