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On the corner of Short con and Long play sits the neighborhood ponies man in his pickup van, waiting to take parlay list deliveries Feeling leisurely ... not wanting to bounce on a Cadillac roll, Trickbaby is out on a stroll He's looking for a grifter tip on a hot streak filly, who runs fast spurred by a mean buggy whip He takes his numbered ticket buy, puts it in his lucky left side pocket, as he holds a rolled, sacred racing form scroll in his superstitious, money-itching right hand Trickbaby continues on his daily walk heading to the hoop chain ballers park Once there, he takes a spectator bench asphalt view, and watch some opening moves of the ghetto grandmaster’s playing on their custom made chessboards Long retired from the rat-race corporate game, Trickbaby got laid back, lounging angles and always charismatic, well-rehearsed dangles He observes the walking nylon nets concrete flash bait some guppy fishes, and he rises to go where he knows some quick currency streams are gon flow Trickbaby captain finger signs the seedy hotel scout door man, who in turn gives him the proper respect nod of his soldier head Trickbaby is dressed in his natty, blue-grey pork pie hat, neon black, sharkskin zoot suit And patent leather penguin spats — proper old-school playa shoes He greets the tall, exotic Illustrated woman at the door, who extends her psychotropic inked hand and pierced diamond-studded tongue Receiving the news of the working crews, Trickbaby goes up to his penthouse room to rest for another night rendezvous, at the corner of Long con and Short play King Gotham bat gon meet some joker night crawlers; crack open some new grifter plans, and watch those wannabe trickbabies get the dreamy eyes ... Seeing visions of tropical beach sands Trickbaby true knows that a fake trickbaby only gon start to ghetto grow up one day, when you take their milk bottle money away

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 11/22/2017 7:32:00 AM a world unto itself....yet unseen by so many passersby. Freddie, I can smell the heat baking off the old brownstones and the softening asphalt of the inner city.
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Date: 11/22/2017 6:05:00 AM
Your poems should be documented for history...You tell it like it at the time...really good...Wonderful Freddie...
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Date: 11/21/2017 1:49:00 PM
You really know how to tell a story Freddie.. Once again an excellent poem..
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Date: 11/21/2017 12:40:00 PM
Feel like I was in a Shaft or SuperFly movie. "Old school playa shoes, zoot suit, penguin spats, wha cha know bout tat my Brother Robinson. Brilliant write old school and ghetto true. Thanks for sharing your great talent ---James
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