Friday 17 August 2012

Fo' shizzle I masta rappa

You tell me that you make music
Pardon me while I snigga
All I hear is bitch and ho
And here and there a nigga.

You tell me that you make music
Go tell that to yo' motha
When you sing I try my best
To get one word in ten, brotha.

You tell me that you make music
Betta and even bigga
With pimpmobile and bling you do your thing
Flash plus cash gets gash, you figga.

Gangsta, bro, sistah, ho
One finga on the trigga -
How many times you been shot so far?
Can bullets go even deepa?

Fo' shizzle you da man
Make albums one afta otha
Blow da cash on booze and drugs
And call yo' rival  a big motha.

Maybe yo' momma thinks you sing
Gimme reggae or rock or pop or otha
Hip-hop listening's too much strain
For my brain to botha.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Full comment moderation is enabled on this site, which means that your comment will only be visible after the blog administrator (in other words, yours truly) approves it. The purpose of this is not to censor dissenting viewpoints; in fact, such viewpoints are welcome, though it may lead to challenges to provide sources and/or acerbic replies (I do not tolerate stupidity).

The purpose of this moderation is to eliminate spam, of which this blog attracts an inordinate amount. Spammers, be warned: it takes me less time to delete your garbage than it takes for you to post it.