Poetry #2

rayt meh nawtha tym

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Strapped with the glock, roamin' the streets
Blasted the AC from the heat, bumpin' a good beat
Feelin' good, just had a Cheesecake from dah hood
Can't fuck with the Benz, fiends chase me with lead
Buck-buck, missed shots, flied above my head
Pressed the pedal to the metal, shit the gas out the end
From Long Beach to Queens, OG's can feel me
Livin' rough day-to-day, waitin' for the end, see
When I lie crooked on the streets, soul in front of the gates
Shines like pearls, as God walks through and judges my faith
I turn around, pull my pants down
Leave a nice deuce on the cloud and pounce
Straight to hell, towards the Hooker Lounge.

 

tl;dr

 

You too afraid to admit that I'm a lyrical genius. It's aight, we got telepathy.

 

My song.

 

Now write one about cats

 

Garbage.

 

Okay.