The pickled bubble

Im so isolated i should live in a bubble. Sophisticated as fuck but function like barnie rubble. Everyone is so liberal they call it progressive. My hairline recessive. Fuck abs my belly is massive. A heart attack will end it. Then i wont move a muscle. 27 club has no worries. Im 41 and fucking humble. Im more likely to have some slumber than a rumble. Just made some fried chicken. Watch my breading crumble. When i walk out the club i may stumble. But dont take that misstep for weakness. Just trying to make u remember ill hustle and be the hired muscle. But can still relax enough to let things be simple. The enemy and us both are fickled. I say we get pickled. I like to keep life simple.