Real G's ain't nothin to sneeze at, makin' cheese is a breeze for that laminated bake, ground steak with a tomato gravy I'm talkin' pasta squared cut like a cake that pyrex don't break whether mixin' up that medicine or a feline favorite, that orange cat Garfield the real og renamed Arfield.

This is the worst rap Ive ever written, enjoy.

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I don't know about you but I didn't thought about the silent G in lasagna until grandpa said it. Poetry in motion!