where's dad?

C'est la vie popped a xanny, photobombing the portrait

They were killing all our grannies and we couldn't catch the culprit

The resemblance was uncanny until I got the closest

How eminent's a Grammy when the fan becomes a poet

She a fan, she wanna blow it

You the man but never show it

Second chances that resulted in

Francis, I engulfed him in

Answers bout this stanza, put his hands up, I insulted him

Dancers, ending cancer, lightning bolts that he assaults us with

Lashes left by masters, drive the boat, traverse the coasts and shit

Passionately asked her watch those ashes 'round my clothes and then