Poetry

Gatling Guns

I grab a nigga’s head and run it through a wall
This aint a game, I came to ball
I came to destroy y’all
I’ma toy with y’all and belch
Leaving rooms with zippers sounding
Resounding, reporting rapid
Gats be clappin’
And junkies be relapsing
Niggas clasping at the truth and clutching air yo
I stare yo, all day but with my eyes closed
I stare with my eyes closed
Think about it…that’s deep

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s