New Shit

I’m ready for whateva nigga
Deuce Trey. I’m strapped up. Pick the map up
It say how to hit the road hoe
I’m the perfect man
Y’all can’t do better than the perfect man
When I blam the eight, it make blood squirt from heads
I fuck bad hoes. I put in they butts a Percocet
They direct deposit your worthless check
I get money bags, a milli at minimum
I kill mo niggas than that dude at the cinema
Cineplex. I’m on the Internet and I’m outside
I leave the world wit lips. So they mouth wide.


Chair Munoz

I masturbated into a flower pot
And I swear the lillies grew 10 inches

Finches, they are fish
But I couldn’t distinguish them to save my life
My new wife, is life, and she’s a hell of a woman
Now I’ma rhyme that with tuhman

I kissed the TV, a young Salma Hayek appeared
I touch my own ears to make sure they are there
I comb my hair as I look to see what I’ll wear

My firstborn, I will name him or her, Chair


It Happened By The Lake

I slit a nigga’s throat. They found his body
On a boat.

So many cameras the next day
Who killed this nigga?
Wasn’t me, I whispered as I whistled past

When I got to work all people
Could talk about
Somebody killed this nigga!
Who do you think it was?
Wasn’t me but…what else is up?

I went home the next day…to my cottage
I’m reading a book, one arm bent back behind my head

I see the nigga slam his hand on the window

I thought this nigga was dead