MODEL CHICK I’m no model chick! I’m 5’5, over 160 pounds and my hips are thick. You probably won’t choose me to be your girl, I don’t mind because you’ll regret it later. I get satisfaction out of your mistakes. You’re with her, but you wanna call me “baby cakes.” You’re gonna marry that girl you adore, I predict you’ll be divorced in less than 4. I’ve told you, I’m no model chick. I can’t shake my ***, or maybe I can, Bur shakin’ my *** is not a part of my plan. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t meant for every man. He knows who he is, would you please stand!! He’s the one over there with the sad look, The one who got the description of the perfect woman outta book. Now you realize that I was that “perfect one.” She was so sweet like Juicy Fruit gum, Buy you know that taste doesn’t last for long. You need a taste that’s gonna last. You want what you could’ve had. Brains, average beauty, personality and pizzazz. You chose the model chick… And I’m glad I’m not the one. Sounds like a lot of pressure to be THAT beautiful. No thank you, I’ll pass. I’m proud of my size 12 pants that barely fit my ***. I was ashamed of the gap in my teeth for awhile. Now I take pride in my kodak smile. You chose model chick… The yellow one with the Tig ol’ Bitties from the Jay Z video. The Vibrant thing with the silver eye shadow. Here’s a news flash I’ve been holding from you. I’ve never been model chick to myself or to you, But I am model chick to the gentlemen in blue. I’ve learned over time that not the same model image sits in Every man’s head. He likes my lips, hips, bright eyes and funny shaped legs. He wasn’t feelin’ model chicks brains or style, He wanted to taste my everlasting flava for a while. ROYAL T.