Got this poetry thing
I got this poetry thag
Man
I reversed the books
My first poems were just for looks
Im a rapper who lust for hooks
How can my audience lust for my books?
Are my rhymes
Bout today’s times
Are they mimes of designs
That shower
When a man goes down
And the taste of the Amazon
Mysterious
I’m serious
Im surreal
But Ron won’t let me
Be freaky
As I want to be
I got this poetry thang
That was a hobby
So I was predictable
It was pitiful
That I wrote bout what I went thru
But in the hut
Nobody felt me
Or understood
I was a ****
A mut
In my own image
Or mirages
And camouflages that my mind set for me
Can I give Mya and Shawn the best of me
I got this poetry thang
That I write for people
Who may not understand themselves?
I seen a young girl
Writing poetry
I wanted to comment
But to each is their own
Who am I to say she could have wrote it better
If that is her
Her feelings
I am not one to lament criticism
Although as a reader
I am the critic
You
My friend is the critic of mine
My rhyme
Which may not rhyme?
At all times
Are add up to 10 dimes
But one dime at a time
Is how one purchased lime
And sweet fruit
That grows as each flow is posed
And one smells with his nose
And he is instantly froze
I got this poetry thang
I got this poetry thag
Man
I reversed the books
My first poems were just for looks
Im a rapper who lust for hooks
How can my audience lust for my books?
Are my rhymes
Bout today’s times
Are they mimes of designs
That shower
When a man goes down
And the taste of the Amazon
Mysterious
I’m serious
Im surreal
But Ron won’t let me
Be freaky
As I want to be
I got this poetry thang
That was a hobby
So I was predictable
It was pitiful
That I wrote bout what I went thru
But in the hut
Nobody felt me
Or understood
I was a ****
A mut
In my own image
Or mirages
And camouflages that my mind set for me
Can I give Mya and Shawn the best of me
I got this poetry thang
That I write for people
Who may not understand themselves?
I seen a young girl
Writing poetry
I wanted to comment
But to each is their own
Who am I to say she could have wrote it better
If that is her
Her feelings
I am not one to lament criticism
Although as a reader
I am the critic
You
My friend is the critic of mine
My rhyme
Which may not rhyme?
At all times
Are add up to 10 dimes
But one dime at a time
Is how one purchased lime
And sweet fruit
That grows as each flow is posed
And one smells with his nose
And he is instantly froze
I got this poetry thang