My fist so rocky and and wrist so icy, Might be, thrown off my rocker just slightly, Feisty, claimin' hot temper don't ignite me, I'm only gonna ask ya find the exit once politely — T.I Copy Share Image
“air." Jack scowled. His practice had really paid off—his whole face bunched up like a muscle-man's fist. Rocky and Bosco pushed up to standing. Rocky's brawny shoulders flexed like two” — Bruce Hale Copy Share Image
