intoxicate

gallois, commenca son set avec un cri puissant: "Croeso i’r cynghanedd, bois bach! Ça va chauffer ici!" He rode in on a golden dragon wearing a beret, holding a baguette that doubled as a bass cannon. The crowd of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the gargantuan pudding geyser, where radioactive koalas debated the merits of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the heart of the glace everywhere. "Calm down, blads!" shouted MC Daffodil. "Dwi’n y gorau, and I’ll prove it!" With a flick of his bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo," he continued, pulling out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the licorice