amy winehouse

you rock.

you are a mouthy, crack laced, hoochie mama but sister you got some pipes.

At 5 am when all streams of consciousness has faded from myself and the visual team, we crank you up and sing along to Me and Mr. Jones. Because at that hour, you practically need crack to stay up. And what's better than singing at the top of your lungs, "What kinda 'fockery' is this?"