Best Copping Poems


Rap Like Rabbit Battle Rap

Rap like Rabbit battle Rap

21/05/2018

Livin by the beach and baby life’s good
Not stuck in a rut or in a crummy hood
I’m writing tight rhymes like you know you should
Or like you thought you would
No like you wish you could
But man you ain’t got no wood
Your actions so sloppy n soft
I’m holdin the trophy aloft
Yeah my critics they all scoffed
But my paper leads the way
To hear my rap you gotta pay
The pretty skirts all wanna stay
So many I gotta shoo em away

Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and copping cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free

Now listen up a while
And you’ll hear my roarin style
Insults on you I’ll pile
So deep you’ll run 8 mile
Like a rascally rabbit
Talkin rain like Charlie Babbitt
Stuttering’s your best habit
Tear out your heart man I’ll stab it
Oops now your bleeding out
But your soulless words don’t shout
Your lips just quiver n pout
Man... I know what your about

Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and coppin cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free

Look at you your a disgrace
Tears a runin down your face
Can’t keep up with my hectic pace
No I won’t show you no grace
Cause now I’m free flowin fast
Like I’ve had a wicked blast
And your junk is still half mast
Oh Man your moments past
Now this is kinda tricky
But your Calvin’s Kleins are sticky
Man I’m just takin the Micky
Out of your sweet little dicky

Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and copping cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free

I can’t help but be like this
My arrows never gonna miss
And when you do throw out a diss
I’ll grin or smile and blow a kiss
Cause you can’t touch me dog
Girl on your arm looks like a hog
Girl on mine’s so hot theirs fog
Your starin speechless your agog
I got the paper, chicks and words
You can’t even find a use for verbs
I bet your smokin chockin on herbs
I’m clean n mean, mind undisturbed

Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and copping cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free

Premium Member Story

I'm just writing my story
Leaving out all the glory
I never tore them; yet the pages and spine are all but broken
Its letters are scattered, yet still the words form a concise omen
Would you read it back to me slowly, please, as you reach the bitter ending?
It hurts my eyes, you see; this heart could use a break from all this bending.....
Being devoured alive inside is such a epic novel unsavory
Moments, however, are kept in order by thoughts of your light upon my gnomon
They just keep coming, though without a care as to whether or not they are heartrending
It's so sour to own a form of pain that is this condescending
A barren land uncultivated and so divided from this yeoman
Painless by comparison to a nose job given by the grindstone of life's knavery
Just as I finished; then, the ink ran dry right before me..... 
It's in this here and now that I've broken out
I wanna scream, but they drown out every shout
Then I think of all the things I ought not talk about:
Have they ever not been a couple minutes too late?
Do they ever have their story straight?
Inside me, hope has made its case to abate....
Hung from ropes unknown, can you relate?
Am I the world's least astute gadabout?
What I feel is that my intentions are drawn and quartered; based fully on others' self-doubt 
But there is no way I will let this point of pitiful; be an excuse to live life by copping out

True Hood

 Let me tell you about, this girl I know,
      that has a heart colder than snow.
She live's the life of the street's,
that's all she know's, that's all she could be!
      She stay making move's...
It's now time, to play the game by her own rule's!
  She drops out of school, in the tenth grade...
Money is what she know's, money is what she made!
  Get's engage to the street's, 
       tried of all the lame's,
         tried of the weak!
   Her life was remade,
It's now time to pave a new way!
       Reborn... right from of the grave, of life!
All chip's in... She just rolled the dice!
     Here come's new life...
At the age of fifteen, here come's a new scene!
    Her first son was made...
        Now it's time to step up the game!
     Had three car's, all in her name...
          The car's was never legit,
A chop shop, made all those serial number's fit!
   As her baby boy, had the Jordan's he couldn't even began to fit!
     Paying all the bill's, even the rent.
       Both brother's on the block,...
              for the crib, wouldn't get hot!
       A dopefiend dream, If you know what I mean!
     Living the life...like scarface wife!
        Pushing key's of coke,
           rocking fur coat's!
    Going on boat ride's, with white guy's!
Now the landlord, smoke's...
    Renting the Lexus, for a dub of coke!
           *****es envious, Nigga's is scarred!
     Fronting' pound's, to help nigga's get on!
          Baby's momma's, eating out of plams.
      Wishing they can take her on!
 Her baby daddy, is proud to have her on his arm!
     Living the life....
Coming from the project's, to owning, complex's.
   Strugling from being a minority,
        coming from society,
         living in poverty! ...
   Copping to Drug Court, while other's do, 2- 4!
          She's taking trip's,
      Living lavish,
     Looking flawless,
Living hood rich!
       Devoted to the game,
   living all the hood fame!
     Putting, Erica Cane' to shame!....
       My swagger so tight,
   It's cutting into you, like a knife!
  You can feel it swelling,.....
    Cause your girl "TWANNA" is so .......
    "OVERWHELMING"...


The Bulldozer In My Dream

They have been wandering for decades
Journeying to the land that was promised by their forefathers
A land that would seal the faith of future generations.

They rove night and day guided by a single pillar of light
Looking for the land that was just minutes within sight
But faith had them wondering and pondering 
Meandering up steep hills and giant rocks
Roaming around mountain and caves
Looking for that sacred spot.

But they could not find their way home 
The road that leads home was covered with tall thick giant grass 
Blade as wide as the palm of my hands overshadowed the path
And the visible eyes could not perceive it
Only the spirit of God could reveal it.

Suddenly a bulldozer appears,
And a little man holding the levers  
Reversed it back and forth and leveled the dense path 
That leads to a dead end spot in the middle of the town.
The bulldozer could not handled the thick mass of grass
That forms little mountains on that anguished path.

Determination kept the bulldozer rolling along.
It pushed and scraped until it leveled the towering grass 
That connects the main road to an asphalted road. 
Without warning the bulldozer blade broke off in a circular hole
And the little man came from behind the levers and peeped into
the hole and grumbled that he has strained his back.

All of a sudden two men with machetes appeared 
And start copping around several mounds
Close to that very spot potato vine sprouted 
With blossom forming an archive in the air
potatoes ready for reaping hangs from 
vines  that juxtapose with blossoms.

Be quiet! 
The machete man exclaimed 
Stop chopping!
He peered at vines and leaves above
And discovered that the abandoned path is guarded 
By a gigantic wasp nest with thousands of wasps standing guards.

They hang from branches and form clusters 
that appear as brown potatato blossom
Laying wait in silence to attack their preys 
in the patch of bush that surround the mounds.
But they were exposed and dismantled
just before the break of dawn.

                                                                 ©2014 Christine Phillips

Ode To the Bi-Polar

So what, I'm upset, deal with it!

If you can't, tough, get out of my face!

My reasons are none of your business!

You need to just give me my space!

Don't you dare tell me to, "just chill out"...

Or, "at least act like you're in a good mood"

Don't take it personally, I ain't mad at you 

And I'm NOT copping a bad attitude!

It's just sometimes my thoughts kinda darken

And I can't shake it off, wish I could.

So the only advise I can give you

Is get away from me, THAT would be good.

And then, when I start feeling better,

Don't act like you're all upset too!

Let it go, you do NOT make me feel bad!

You just make me feel like punching you!

Yes, I call you names and yell insults,

But when mad, I can't help how I act.

I'm so happy to tell you what I think of you

And I wont even bother with tact.

Being warned, if you still want to know me,

If you think you can handle the strain,

Then just don't say that I didn't warn you,  

And I do NOT want to hear you complain!

A Street In a Burg Called the Blues

DAMN, 
BACK ON THE STREET AGAIN!
THE DIME BAG COPPING EGO DROPPING DAMPENED  DOPE STREET DREAMS AGAIN…………. 
a street in a burg called the blues baby~ 
Where wicked wretched women are on the stroll~
Bopping to rock and roll
As I light upon the utterly wanton wishes of woeful whores
Where even the sages are bores
AND DESTITUTION OOZES FROM THE PORES OF US JUNKIES, 
JOHNS 
AND SCREWED UP FEW
AND FEW KNEW WHAT WE ALL KNEW
BECAUSE IN THE END WHAT ARE WE ALL REALLY TRYING TO DO?
JUST PAY OUR DUE BABY,
JUST             PAY                     OUR               DUE ..........................           
   © 2011.…Poefree


Copping An Attitude


Uniform bravery blue
checked out 
before the stroke of midnight
Just as my black butt inadvertently ran into
a bullet fired by
the nervous trigger finger of officer Fife
But in the court of law,
my ebony word didn’t stand a snowball chance
Some tin star shady Hades testimony
foiled my justice remedy
As sheriff Andy backed up the diablo story
of his inept, scared deputy
Got me copping a Mexican attitude — 
caliente habanaro angry
A fire’s burning in my belly
in the little border city of Socorro,
a desert Mayberry
There’s a lot of gaucho gun runners
tequila riding 
from Lone star true south of Rio Grande
And plenty of drug cartel mules
24-wheeler hiding,
rolling north on a bandito stretch of highway
Uniform cowardly blue
didn’t prevent them from coming thru
The small town law no stop that muerte contraband,
pistoleros riding dirty in unmarked vans
Instead they profile halt citizen law-abiding me:
got a false resisting arrest ticket,
and a hands-in-the-air protest fine
Was shown bottom of the boot asphalt authority,
kicked-to-the-curb bullet in the behind
They flashed their sirens on me
for cruising slow Mustang mestizo
Got me copping a Cozumel attitude — 
fuego jalapeno Zorro
And my homeboy legal amigos 
are stoking spicy sombrero lingo
Pursuant to a civil lawsuit for police brutality,
a hot lead chili pepper plaintiff plea
is the Santa Ana path I choose to bleed

I Don'T Think I Can Do This

Cruising home from the driving range.  
My collared shirt free of cigarette burns…  
58  in November,  hit’em pure
Pushed back against the wind flirted with woods
Everything should be  peace  Turners on; and I’m contemplating hard

A trip back to dodge way ,  
bury me  in project bricks
Surrounded by fresh needles and chunky cocaine.
Skoal Mint  sinking me to the chair again, 
Dotted pupils linoleum on my knees…  

I”m pushing it all the way cause 

I want me the ****ing  ringing chased by black melting weightlessness..

Ohh where did I lose soul..   between rattling box car trains at the back porch in point breeze,
 or the cramped back seat of my ford escort home…  I  still feel the abrasive fabric on my cheek…  

Don’t think Ill find it in a 401k  or wooden pin..
salivating at double seals again
I don’t think I can do this,  
don’t think I can  be high enough sober
,I ain’t never gonna recover.  
  
A vibration sucks my lip dry,  damn phone dashing  fantasy.  
It’s not locked, Alone, but a few voices behind me.
humming I can’t handle another  decade of subs junk and booze..

I feel too much. sober


Drops of sweat on my back from heated seats flash call off leg cramps
Black trucks remind of exit door deliveries at Giant Eagle..   
Uneasiness haunts back the anticipation of copping
Am I supposed to eat honey nut cheerios with a damn fork…     

How am I gonna recover?????

Artificial warmth always distracts swollen veins and cherished loneliness 

How am I gonna recover? 

The drugs don’t know  
    this time 
I’m fighting with  sessions, a pen and  ****ing numbers…
 I can mask  rage as calm conversation 
Throw out chunks  of  feelings in self deprecation
And turn away from  nodding strangers  

I’m  calling  out to all  my   desire to die…….
.   
Cause today I’m feeling high enough

Dave streett

Premium Member Busted

I was driving and crossed over the line
Intoxicated with lust, and half blind
You see, I was out on a date
We'd had drinks and it was getting late

I had one hand on the wheel
The other completely concealed
Lost in a fuzzy sweater
Looking for something better

She was nibbling on my ear
I was in the stratosphere
Realizing they were real
Mashed the gas copping a feel

Now to me that light looked yellow
I swear I didn't see that fellow
Just as he stepped from the curb
She grabbed my shifter, that's when I swerved

All I heard was a thump
Yeah there was a slight bump
Before I could get out of sight
In the rear view I saw blue lights

We turned in to the nearest drive
About that time she took a dive
Right when beauty saw the beast
Busted by the dream police


   an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner

Premium Member Never Cop Out

Never cop out
In order to solve a problem 
one must think like a “cop”
One must go to that single  donut hole
place in his gut and make a rational decision

Cop only to the human heart

Cop to the heart, body mind and soul in order 
      to find that through line ...

You know that a through line is also the happy medium ending place that which is absent of malice and forethought

Then "Cop" into this happy medium place where "Copping" really, really count

Premium Member I Cry For The Children

I cry for the boys who just need to be left to be themselves
To play and explore, take risks and learn the hard way
With peers, and fathers and grandfathers
Getting the role models they need and deserve
From actual males and not the nurturing females
Who are now head of almost half of all households
And more than three quarters of all teachers and counselors
Females who all may mean well, but end up 
Raising something that too often really isn’t a man.

I cry for the girls who just need to be left to be themselves
As tough as that can sometimes be
To slowly and steadily fill out
To become a woman whose whole is greater than her parts.
To celebrate and respect their femininity
Safe and secure to excel as females
Protected from males in sports and social spaces
To embrace being female, instead of copping out
To try and be a male, while ending up neither.

I cry for the children who just need to be left to be themselves
To play and explore and grow
For the few short years it is to be young
To keep their innocence as long as possible
And a child-like sense of wonder forever
Even if it remains hidden in private beneath a maturing face.
To be cherished and protected, nurtured and empowered
By the adults in their lives, and to know their elders
And the love that only comes from generations of experience.

(7/12/24)

2009 Hyundai Sonata Funereal Lament

Unaffordable, yet valiant speeding, 
tailgating, and zooming Pep Boys, I cannot dodge. 

Yours truly grief stricken
(sob... sob... sob)...
wheely hard to bear
this anticipatory anxiety
riddled joker impossible
mission thwarting despair

death knell tolled (told),
woebegone news, I did fear
hears stunned me into silence,
the unwelcome prognosis,
I needed to hear
no joke, but good humor

totally wrecked vehicle forces
yours truly to become...,
no not a lion tamer
but, yes a panhandling junketeer
begging, copping, dilly dallying... ha
to accept unpleasant

unexpected dire straits
gravely digging within lithosphere
bidding... fare thee well
treasured automobile faithful and near
synonymous with ideal paramour, yet now
must confront stark reality,

lack ample disposable income available
no financial resources to persevere,
and worse case scenario me
and the missus will need to don
faux Santa Claus outfit,
and roundup available reindeer

for ourselves (yea... yea... yea...,
I realize how spare
and tired, pessimistic,
forlorn success such short notice
unless if... nah no fat or slim chance...
apocalypse ushers abominable thermonuclear

war, (I doubt Trump would 
pull publicity stunt
to be re elected - ha) whereby
Beatle browed, foo fighting
foreigners, survivors impressed, feted,
compensated... for service
unless they willingly volunteer.

Combination future pluperfect
birthday presents and Noel hi
Christmas gifts well nigh,
noah ark cake "FAKE" attempt,
to hoodwink, engine ear,
trunk hate, et cetera
drum, harp, trumpet... belie
including objective to shanghai,

nor fall out of good amazing graces
toward (me) garden variety generic guy
providing steadfast generous
figurative air supply to fortify,
revving me shaky talent,
ye may oft times decry
as unintelligible gobbledygook

brainstorming ideas to try
single handedly ambidextrously
poetically kindle indeed codify
to elucidate how transportation
car reared and gone awry
moderate expenses as original parts wear out,
(i.e. battery, fender, brakes, 
hood latch, shock absorber, tires...

albeit almost all simultaneously), hence I sigh
aware expounding circumstance that doth defy
immediate resolution incumbent to pacify
troubleshoot immediate impasse
squarely render quintessence
problem solving the overriding 
challenge, I vilify.

Sloth

I should be writing books,
Screenplays and sitcoms
But I'm not...
Sloth has dug its claws into me

I shouldn't be watching
Have I Got News For You
From 1999 on UK Gold
But I am...
Sloth has dug its claws into me

I should be doing something
Better with my free time
Than slowly vegetating
But I'm not...
Sloth has dug its claws into me

I shouldn't be content
With the easy answer
Instant gratification, copping out
But I am...
Sloth has dug its claws into me

I really should write
Another verse in this poem
Something witty and insightful
But I won't...
It's that infernal sloth again

Silence Kills

i wrote that i was lucky just the other day
 
yet i cant express how i feel verbally
 
i wish there was a cure so i can say
 
what my heart  is deeply feeling everyday
 
when i get the spotlight i freeze in freight
 
i end  up hurting you and that isnt right
 
i whisper how im feeling cause i know you cant hear
 
when the time comes my words disappears
 
im sorry but it seems i cant change
 
maybe im copping out or just plain afriad
 
i really do trust you but i cant seem to let go
 
i wish i wasnt holding back so i can tell you so
 
i always feel dumb when you ask me how i feel
 
because i say nothing when thats not how i feel
 
my heart starts to pound like im running in a race
 
you repeat your question and its like im stranded out in space
 
im sorry that im treating you so unfair
 
you deserve better and me expressing how i feel
 
whenever you tell me that its "cool"
 
more and more i feel like a fool
 
i wish it wasnt so hard for me
 
because i truly want you to truly see
 
that i care just as strongly for you like you care for me...

Lady Lady Lady

Sweet talk
Walk
Full of
Sugar
Not even
A cat with the
4 x 4 Chevrolet
With a V8
Grade A game
Could pull her
Unless the arrest
Was backed
By a legitimately
Vivid spirit
Handling his business on a mission of forever copping infinitive knowledge
Constantly busting and handcuffing ignorance
She's one
Of the last
From a long lost 
Tribe
Grew up with 
Both
Mom and a Dad
That was a good man
To a damn good wife

Lady! Lady!! 
 Lady!!!

Where have you been?
Tell me you'll slow down
Let me catch up
When
Your schedule allows an opening
That'll be quite
Inviting
I promise to keep the conversation light
Precise to your liking
Down to Earth
But in no way dirty
Cause lady you move me
While I'm standing still

 Lady Lady

Who can turn every ghetto here into paradise

Lady- Lady-Lady
I' m foreal
Because I know I'm right

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