Been long I wrote anything with my street jamz
Guess nobody’s been hurt, thats why
And everybody’s happy forgeting there’s work to do
Which makes me wanna give everybody everyone’s laundry as punishment
Me, myself aint having it easy up here
Though they say you see real good when you’re in flight
Guess my flight is doping fast
Need a parachute now to see how these kids are faring
To see whether they are still shitting on everybody else
Rather than on themselves.
Words out in the street, that everybody’s going broke
That means plenty and plenty break-ins
Guess I cant live with that
So I got myself a gun
A real new gun
Don’t want these feebies tracing the damn thing back to me
Aint nothing like mercy lurking in my godamned mind
It’s all “try and die trying”, for the real dudes, its worth a slang, for the trodden, its a message of doom and everyone’s seems to hate bad news these days.
Yeah, the broads, how can I forget them,
Wonder why guys goto club just to dance behind a piece of shit
Seems they are afraid of the real thingie
Saw one broad yesternight, mehn!, she is all love,
Makes me wonder how big the hole behind her panties is,
Went straight to her, dip my hand inside, mehn! Its deepie,
I got lucky.
Which also makes me wonder why someone should want to keep a godammned girlfriend
Guess these dudes ‘re going crazie on those pair of jugs
I suck it all day, and guess what, nothing happened, and i pray nothings gonna happen
How can I forget my hommies,
They makes me feel great anytime am in town,
Guess dope makes some feel good, me too
I smoke all day leaving no traces,
I can go on and on for a week, but the last time I did that i got mojo-ed by gurls in the street
Guess they were starved real good,
I got my share too
The hood sees to it all
And my hommies got the hood
So i always got lucky, i break the rules, bend some, and it never made me not to see the skyblue.
Back in the street, we use some slangs, my mama caught me saying some nice words in the phone, she got happy, but the dude at the end of the line wasnt all that happy.
I use to behave around mom, and she thinks I’m a good kid, I used to be, but things got heavy, Had to shed off some to make room for others, then, it was the best decision, ‘cos I kicked alotta butts, it made me happy, i learned to call gurls bitches, learned some slangs, yea, I also learned that gun is made to solve sick problemos
I played odds, it felt good, real good.
Sometimes, we hold court, and some unlucky dudes were used, used for settlements, I needn’t worry about that, cos i always got back up, strong ones oh.
Guess, one time I got unlucky ‘cos the police started abandoning their uniform, they thought wearing what everybody else wears will make their job easier, it did made it easier, but it made me angry, cos I was unlucky. How did it happen?, word got around that I’m hood, the police knew and that got more dangerous for me
So I started runing and ran into a cop, wearing mufti, the lady cop got huge jars, huge enough for me to bury my head inside, and I did, my mistake,. In the cell, writing this, some kid fanning sweat outta my body, the cell door opened, an unlucky dude was thrown inside, too unlucky cos I got a job to do on him, its my job and nobody else gotta do it, except me and no question is asked, not now, nor ever.
StreET odDitieS
Written with my old pen, old enough to be sold as an antique.
Who be this abeg?
…A potential writer,@kaycee
Put more effort, you didn’t take this post serious enough.
Actually I wrote the literary work after reading dead city, a mafia novel, and God knows I love the novel, but since its not welcomed here nor the style of the expression, then its left for me to follow the trend==>please, I am a new user here, I will appreciate any help, thanks.
I like your spirit
If you’re writing a poem, stick to the form. If not, start and finish it as prose. That’s just one of the many corrections this work needs.
Don’t be discouraged, though. At least, you’ve got the desire…just work harder at improving your writing…