Poetry

Picking Up Chicks

I saw honey at the grocery store
She was bending over checking meat out
I had to reach out
And pinch it
She said Ow but was Smiling tho
I’m like what’s your name
She said, they call me Tylenol

Interesting name, I spit game like a champ do
She said, sweety what’s your name
I said, well in the streets they call me Matthew

Now we at the crib tussling with the blankets
I ain’t shorty’s father but fa sho I had to spank it
Now she like how many Benjamin Franklins do ya got
I said, I got a new credit card…so you can say I have a lot

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Poetry

Killa Instinct

yo, I let the mag spray and make a good nigga
Have a bad day
I use the sad face to attract babes
It works great
I saw somebody spreading hate
And I was like yo, spread some love for a change

Unless you wanna let them hammers bang
I let the Nina spark till the Aquafina’s dark
Serve a nigga hot lead and if he’s not dead
We reverse the whip and disperse a clip
Or we can scrap till my shirt is ripped
I’m down for whatever, cuz
I saw somebody spreading hate
And I was like yo, spread some love

Unless you wanna let the burners flame
I spitz that murda game
Ya’ll wave the surf, I surf the wave
What that mean? It mean everything
I used to be the buyer
Now I’m the buyer and the plug
I saw somebody spreading hate
And I was like yo

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Poetry

A Legendary Writer

I’m still writing y’all
I’m combative, I’m fighting y’all
What happens when a lil nigga feels tall?
He joins the NBA and plays ball

I’m a hoopster, I hoop outdoors in all conditions
I even shoot around during the intermission
Wells be wishing I feed em a coin
I battled them all in the Battle of Boyne
I think my sound is super sonic
I act moronic, then I act intelligent
I ride thru storms on Belgium elephants
And I play the banjo, she fingers the harp
AK-47, Mac-11 humming, tears yo block apart
I’m a supernova exploding heart
I wait till sundown to throw in pitch-black dark a dart
I rub my chin and think I’m smart
A conversation with me may strike you as performance art
Because I speak as if some crazy shit is about to start

The heart pumps faster, like an impending disaster is fast approaching
I don’t need coaching, I told my coach he is but a roach in the scheme of grand things
I pull a fast one like a sprinter’s hamstring
Damn these things that I don’t agree with
I drink coffee by myself, I have no one to drink tea with
My album, I’ma leak it, it’s been a secret for too long
In my drawer is still my ex-girlfriend’s red thong
Right next to the light green bong, and ganja from the mean streets of Hong Kong

I ding, but do I dong?
Don’t ask me what’s wrong kuz a tirade will ensue
I’m in court getting sued by a beautiful dude
He said I was rude, and my lawyer’s a Jew, so…
I’m well defended, let’s stop pretending, I told the court
Ya’ll just wanna see me in person, of course, of course
My torso is not tatted, my flesh is clean
Let’s drop the moon on a trampoline to see if it’ll bounce
When I’m broke I buy weed in grams, when I’m not, I buy an ounce
I pounce on a subject like a ruthless rugrat
I’m like, fuck this! … I point at something else, And fuck that!
My truck is fat so it fits hella women, by the dozens in fact
I’m feeling like a mack. They cackling, cracking up
Kuz I’m saying shit that’s funny, shit that’s nutz
My nuts be too hairy for the faint of heart
Ah! A new poem…where should I start?

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Poetry

An Actual Pterodactyl

Please don’t shit in the punch bowl
I heard someone say
Who is a pussy, who is gay
The biggest fag rides a pink Jag thru a fruity metropolis
Not only am I sexual, but I am also metro
I grabbed a stranger’s hand on the street
And said let’s go
She abided and now our destinies have collided

Hours later we’re watching alligators fight
And everyone around has money on a winner
On the way home we listened to Born Sinner
She gave me her number and that was that
She left her hat in my car on purpose
So she can have an excuse to see me again

I think I’m a ten out of ten
The hottest boy a grim grey block can produce
I’m like juice for the parched
My clothes be wrinkled, yo clothes be starched
Yet I be flyer
Like Michael I Myers
I’m feeling strong
Like when you just put air in a tire
My situation is so dire, it’s beyond the point of critical
For fun, I spend all day sounding out syllables
It’s just a thing I do
My poetry ain’t no shortcut, it ain’t no haiku
I’m the type to have a wedding just to say “I don’t”
When it was expected that I say, “I do”
I’m crazy like that
Crazy as 89 flapjacks
I’m the type that makes people curious as to what’s in my backpack
Like, what could his possessions be, what are his interests
Diversity vision with more views than Pinterest
People be peeping the syntax in texts, so just call it syntext

I prefer real-life interactions
In the digital age that’s a cataclysm
I prefer real-life interactions
You gotta peep my inflections & mannerisms
A truism
At some point was imparted as wisdom

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