Black Poetry : Streets & Love (Anybody Colab) Poetry Cypher

I smash your windpipes aint messin wit you little tikes
kids mad at me cause they wife left them for a dike/
I spit venom that crushes haters esophagus
gasping for air-lung squeeze for that last sensation/
its ur pea/pee brains sin-say-son (sensation)
im taking your money cars and whips im a-nya-lating (annialation)/
chitown midwest stompin grounds for killers baby
leave you discombobulated like white gurls dancing to slim shady/
u guys small time im worth the whole pot
my block like crisco-look like a rim parking lot/
i thought the plot was to spit energy and show love-haters stop
for you get something you just might regret-double shots from the glock/
 
Keita said:
yo dog, I like ya style/ya mellow/ not really wild,
but if ya down wit T/ bend and crack me a smile.
How a baby gone battle/ still suckin a rattle/
rodeo that @ss like a branded cattle.
Ya may not know me but I rhyme supreme,
spittin out lyrics like they spit wet dreams/
this is old to me/may be new to you/
keep em bustin ink till their balls turn blue.
If it's true you a So'ja, then pick ya side,
keep ya ammo loaded then keep it wise/
even Rich know what's up so don't slip or slide/
cause maddrapper and T bout ta run and hide.
I don't pass no mic and don't mean ta gloat,
like a p-niss I shove tha shyytt down their throat,
like titanic they goin down wit the boat/
hard ta swim if ya @ss can't float.
__________________

its hard to ryhme when you run out of thoughts
like that mere second you b-itch up sweety than malts/
and if u ready to retire thats cool
cause your poetry is weaker than eddie murphey in nutty professor 2/
like u try to be hard cause yo woman around
but to be honest i smak the taste-turn your smile to a frown/
you aint a man you boy more like a hood clown
ya b-itch send you to the store and you wearing slippers now/
i dont need a maddrapper when i got a so'ja now
that'll take your life faster carbon dioxide now/
when you step your game up and remember this aing the 60's
i'll show you my asz so you can kiss it like you did 50/
 
got my mind in da streets
tryin to steak my claim
got money in my pockets
thats my claim to fame
Naaaaa, a dolla aint everythang
but a dolla makes sense
And a dolla could make you fly and shhhhhh
but that dolla gone make you tense
this street livleygood got this life my luv
of this wicked street bustle
i got kids in dis hea my real true seeds
refuse to be a victim of da hustle
so i will continue to groove and flo
wit these words and these scribes
dat be my good foot out da doe
til then elevatin past bullsh_t & bribes
always dreamin, sticken, and movin
keeps my hustle on point
while you talkin, wishin, & provin
back up dis flo wit yo real joint
 
Check this out, I'm just flowin wit the game,
had to step a little lower, now ain't that a shame,
to rhyme wit the babes, always seeking some fame,
lost in the streets but a gap got their name.
But now let me flow like I live and I know,
elevating my peeps wherever I go...
trying to open their minds away from the snow,
and the universal law of you reap what you sow.

I've been reading rhymes of hustle and flow,
and real fat pockets wherever ya go,
but let me ask a question, cause I got to know,
if ya perpetrating bout gettin that doe?
I'm confused and like the wind blown November,
how ya gettin cake and not a premium member?
Steepin to this site like you all aboard,
postin on a forum you won't even support...
pimpin like a cracker and this forums the ho.

I had to ask cause as I said I'm confused,
you either support your own or your own is used.
So are you a user, a black face abuser,
pimpin off this site thinkin we're all losers?
But like the wind blown leaves in the month of November,
how you got cream and not a premium member?
 

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