Blues a Rappin
Gettin’ it together and puttin’ on my blues.
Gotta get my belt, put a shine on mah shoes.
Walkin’ in the door and doin’ mah thing.
Listen to the tops and hear the phone ring.
Your hair is too long, your pants are too short.
Gotta wake ‘em up get ‘em ready for court.
Time to check your Z’s (paper work),
While your at the door.
Thinkin’ to myself that tops is a bore.
210, 420 (paper work), laying low.
Got-ta get mah money from the money ho.
Inmate throwin’ s**t, I gotta go.
Here come the tops puttin’ on a show.
Do this do that,
Daily things a changin’
Standin’ and a listnin’
I’m a boilin’ and a raging.
Gimme some soap and gimme toilet paper.
Feeling the pain, Inmates a baby raper.
Gotta gat cause that was where its at.
Robbed the store swung a baseball bat.
Fillin’ mah need, mah homie is a rat.
Got da gold in mah mouth and the bud in mah hand.
2 weeks I been runnin’ from the man.
Finally got caught sittin’ and in the pen.
My moms a crying said her boys a sin.
And now I listen to all you got to say,
A spittin’ and complainin’.
Want a brighter day…
I say:
Do just what is right, step back avoid the fight.
Drop the bud and drop the bat, It’ll be a better night.
Why yah gotta prove a man in the hood.
Moms want you to stay alive and
Do just what you should.
And what about your son?
(Most nights at work all the inmates do is rap and talk about how special they are and how great their life was on the street.
I became fed up with all that mess and wanted to put them in their places...
After I wrote and rapped this, (spit sixteen) the whole group of inmates became quiet!
It was the most quietest night and peaceful night I ever had at work... PR
So Is "RAP" poetry?)
Copyright © Pernell Rodocker | Year Posted 2014
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