Joey Fatone
You don’t wanna meet Joey Fatone
He’s a Jersey Devil
with a Tasmanian attitude
Street whispers say,
“Baby” is a notch below
asylum certifiable
A wise guy, gator gait bad to the bone
Known to go postal ... jungle level
Joey loves giving dirt naps,
so don’t keep the short talk too long
Lives Cajun mean dirty down low in the Big Easy,
made Papa Justify give him the Skeleton Key
Stay behind the yellow line ... don’t cross the “Baby”
Always traveled light: Ruby and a burner phone
The Devil adored his metallic Black widow
Mixing business with pleasure was money fun to do
Fatone’s fist: shook rattle them numbered bones;
what you didn’t say, he never wanted to know
Best hit man for hire ... won’t pay the cleaner bill too
You don’t wanna meet Bobby Falcone
He’s a Bowery Hell’s Angel
with a Transylvanian diablo attitude ...
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018
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