Them iced out rocks, now, have never been my way
In midtown some clowns speak with tongues of venom
Not Allison, she'd prefer to sell you deals on denim
Nor Alejandro, no, he schemes to tell all his dreams
Ray in proof represents with a pool game supreme
In the middle there's Gil, giggling at his own jokes
And Mike be, likely, outside for a smoke
Leaving EJ to replay his most recent movie scene
As for me, I'm down with sounds and the spaces in between
Simple words are our jewels, occasional zingers serve as bling
If you sing real nice but lyrics simply aren't your thing
Leave the top lines, the pop rhymes, to the copy team
Talk to our boss Chris, the quick wit with the black shirt and jeans
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