Black Poetry : In this crap game his rap fame knew no bottom but // His crew was rotten for cash had a wimpy thirs

rhymebad

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
May 11, 2006
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In this crap game his rap fame knew no bottom but //
His crew was rotten for cash had a wimpy thirst end up //
With an empty purse. He was plenty creative but many //
Of the natives didn’t care for his long rhymes not any //
At all so he went online with a mini computer then hired //
A skinny tutor to help out a new step no doubt but fired //
Her after a week, he could rap with ease very slick then //
Met a Japanese chick learned how to use chopsticks when //
He ate, from the hood oh yes but stood among the best he //
Was pure bred and sure to get ahead in society a stressed G //
His hardcore path was static but his score in mathematic was //
Good, smart in school but let rap art rule his brain not hot cuz //
Even though he aim to please, crime became a lame disease started //
To dominate his head it gripped the fool started to skip school departed //
A drop out, as a blind slob couldn’t find a job started to chat with //
A drug dealer, chick thought he was handsome and dope with a gift //
But he abandoned hope of being a swift computer programmer drift //
In the street, can’t compare his history and now an air of mystery about //
His doings in town screwing around with crack was whack his route //
Now befuddled he was all aroused lived in a small house almost no //
Yard but his flow was hard on the microphone even from home mow //
The lawn with a Briggs and Stratton wanted to big in Manhattan glow //
Under Hollywood's lights from a jolly hood where fights were common //
 

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