Sunday, December 21, 2008

A Letter To The Ex

Don’t look at me as the cause,
I’m just the end result,
“Game recognize game,”
And I recognize you,
Did you really think she’d keep taking your shyt,
Stay home alone while you were out fuggin that other bytch?
You hate on me ‘cause I took your place,
But you were flaunting your shyt all in her face?
Come home smelling like different soaps,
Why you washing up at your boy’s house?
You really need to lock your phone,
If you texting plans to visit ol’ girl’s home.
She remembered your birthday,
You “worked” the anniversary,
She celebrated both
One with you, one with me.
Guess who was her “Valentine”
Brought candy, roses, “uncorked her wine”,
It’s not B&E if the door’s unlocked
Not robbery if given freely,
But now you got your diesel cocked,
‘cause what was yours belongs to me?
We do the things that she wants to do,
Things she had planned, “just for you”.
You laughed when she started that yoga class,
And now I’m the one getting that flexible ass,
You dogged her for her new 26-28 waist,
For me, it just improved the taste.
So self-involved you didn’t see the attention she’s getting,
So now it’s a new “willie” she’s wetting.
Wandering eyes, always on the prowl,
On some man-to-man, for her, “O” is no longer just a vowel.
Your self-service is ‘cause you’re only serving yourself,
Now she’s getting full service, and the nana’s top shelf,
I do all the things her man didn’t do,
And she does EVERYTHING she never did with you.
You were too busy with your “mans and them,”
Now with someone else her time is spent.
One man’s trash is her new man’s treasure,
And holding her every night is this man’s pleasure.
You were out looking for thighs to part,
And “Jodi” came and healed her heart.
You were out looking for new chicks to bone,
And the Maintenance Man was taking care of your home.
Just calm down, son, don’t be vexed,
Learn from your mistakes, heed this “Letter To The Ex.”

P.S.
One more thing needs be said by Me…
I call you “son,” and she calls me “Daddy”!


12-06-08
4:09 am

Outside The Box

(A Product of divine Inspiration)

Why do we rarely say what needs to be said to those who need to hear it?

Always trying to comfort, or make things easier or some other bullshit.

Why is it so wrong to tell a random beautiful woman that she is stunning,


Why must it be seen as guile or cunning?


Lying about the physical, with push-up bras, surgery, and socks in crotches,


Bleached hair, and iced out watches?


Why must the games be played, why be something that you're not,


While looking for a real person? It's the kettle and the pot...


Why always looking for the greenest grass, instead of tending our own lawns,


Searching for new music, forsaking the classic songs,


Honesty is the best policy, it keeps the schizms to a minimum,


Instead of plying mates with Patron and 151.


Speak from your heart, and though unorthodox,


It will eventually reward you for "thinking outside the box".