One day I was hoopin' (playing basketball) on the courts back home in Evanston (IL that is). Watching cats dunk and finger roll like they were starring in hoop heaven. All of a sudden you hear a car squeal, And what do I see, 12 women pushin' wheels. No they weren't pushing BMW's or Jeep Cherokees, They were pushing strollers and inside were babies. Naw, it's nothing wrong with having kids. But it would help if you got the two year old from under the rim. Yo, look at the 3 year old she's running toward street. That should be a free ticket to get her *** beat. "Is that your little boy too?" "Yeah girl, ain't he cute?" "Hell Naw!, but he just stole that little girl's shoe." These shorties were everywhere And the little mute one kept staring. "How many of these kids are yours?" "6 of the 7, the other one's my homegirls." "6 kids? Wow! How old are you?" "Take a guess!!!" "Uhhhhhhh.....32?!? "32! Girl are you nuts, my grandma is 32. I'm 19 just like you boo!" "19? **** when did you start having kids? Some of them gotta be twins." "No, no twins here. I conceived my first at 17 after a bottle of Belvidere." Needless to say, I stopped talking to her. You know, the mother of 6 in the miniskirt. I'm no ****ing wiz, But 2 years 6 kids... My grades in math weren't that tight, But what I do know is something's not adding up right. Royal T.