Jessica steps in, smells like meat, Says it’s for her kid, a scent to keep. Won’t shower, no spray, just brisket vibes, Funking up the disco, she’s got that stride. Stomach round like a spare tire rollin’, Eats a loaf for breakfast, no weight controllin’. She’s the queen of the floor, but let’s be real, That smoky scent is a whole ordeal. Jessica, funky meat mama tonight, Boogie on, but open a window, alright!