Tuesday, June 12, 2007

In '92, flooded Brooklyn with vials (I'm back!)

My flow is just that smooth, dammit.

So at the persuasion of Jason, I will repost. Since I have nothing to do until I go back out west, I came up with these quick little bars about hating children. I would like to preface this by saying a) I don't hate children as much as it seems in this thing, they only bother in huge amounts b) this verse was inspired by the Pusha T line "Diamonds big as Robin Harris's eyes/ I 'Bebe' Kids my neck" from Fabolous's "Joke's On You" and c) I have no idea what beat this could go over. Enjoy, tear it apart, whatever you please. Keep in mind I was bored.

I could never deal with women with offspring,
They might get attached and have me wind up adopting,
Baking cakes with frosting, shit, I’d rather have them on the corner shootin’ dice or clocking,
Bradley don’t want to hear about Ryan Gosling
I’d rather hear some Joan Allen, and take your Face/off
Show you I practice gun fu if you think I play the game soft,
And if you got Bebe’s kids? Hope they like R Kelly,
Fuck around and wind up trapped in the closet, head to their belly
But no Baretta, they may grow up with a vendetta,
But step to this cat, and mice get robbed for they cheddar,
Pirates for they treasure, cows for they leather, whatever,
And I don’t care if you 8 years old,
I’m a disciple of Omarion, asshole, my heart is ice cold,
Davy Jones, no soul, I rip MC flesh and tear out the bone,
They spineless, rewind this, I’m timeless,
When I get out of school, they’ll say I’m crazy as Ron is,
But this Panther don’t trap women in trunks,
I just got an issue with little men scuffing my Dunks

Anyway, check these out: blam and blam. Hey J, can you take picutres like that of SF that invoke delight and wonder? I sure as hell cannot.

And listen to R. Kelly's "Real Talk." The man is a genius. Anyway, I am out. Don't you think I've got enough bullshit on my mind than to worry about this damn blog? One.

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