Poetry

You’re Either

By now you know…..

It’s better to be with me
Than against me
Bop into my Bentley

Let’s go for a spin
See the streetlights, they get dim
The further South we go
Wild Hunnids, you ever explore?
On the corner is whores, they collect profits
On the corner is niggas, poor people, watch it!
Niggas is just poor folk, forget pigmentations
That’s what I mean by niggas, a clarification

Now get out of my Bentley, you stink like dead grass
Like Big said, I’m glad I ain’t spend no cash to hit yo nasty ass

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Poetry

A Testy Exchange

At least I don’t live in my mom’s basement!, she shouted.

Yeah well at least my mom isn’t gonna die next month

How do you know that? How do you know that! Mama’s boy!

Well…at least I’m trying really hard to get out

Really hard? Oh sweety, you spend all day writing on your blog. You poor soul. Now I just feel sorry for you.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Have a party for me. Bitches, balloons, Bacardi, and weed. And let niggas know that I died with the heart of a G.

What’s that?

Juelz Santana. Check him out.

Maybe I will!!

*Puts on headphones*

*3 minutes pass*

Great song. Oh Jose. This would all be so much better if you were successful.

I am successful – in my own eyes.

Studio Audience: Awwww

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Poetry

The Poor Man’s Poor Man

Yeah I’m poor, what of it?

I can barely afford a single chicken nugget

But I can afford some bad ass speakers

I think my chick is a keeper

I told her: I’m poor, does that bother you at all?

She’s like: define poor

I told her I’m ready for war in a field of mines I’ll skip across to get to you

She said, that’ll do

Woo hoo!

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