Thinks he knows it.
Doesn't know shit.
Cuz his yap's
Fulla crap,
Fulla crap,
Oughta close it.
Like the dean of some whack billiards school.
But his shit was all wrong,
The stench was too strong -
The dim-witted hillbilly fool.
Then, bang, he's on the next table,
Working on preserving the fable.
He gave me no cherce,
Calling natural reverse.
When I told him, the bitch got unstable.
Thinks he knows it.
Doesn't know shit.
Cuz his yap's
Fulla crap,
Oughta close it.Worked his dumb ass into a sweat.
Then he wanted to make me a bet.
Found he was wrong
Sang a new song.
And the asshole ain't paid me yet.
He figured I'd just let him slide.
Couldn't find any places to hide.
Verbal abuses,
Half-assed excuses,
I'm not givin' the dude a free ride.
Thinks he knows it.
Doesn't know shit.
Cuz his yap's
Fulla crap.
Oughta close it.
Copyright © 2011 by Ace Toscano. All rights reserved.
Art sometimes imitates life. Not to say that my writings are art, just that many of them are based on true life experiences, the emphasis here being on "true."
1 comment:
Naw, I don't get into rap crap. It's too guttural for my taste. Not that I don't like vernacular, which I do very much, just that I don't like illiteracy and punk street corner jive as literature and poetry. I'm not abut to get down to that level to express myself; let them climb up to my level of endeavor if they want to communicate "wif" me. -MJM
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