oh shit look I'm gettin mixed signals
all these peeps reppin like dey criminals
lookin at me like I'm spoutin parables
all grounded in truth and unbearable
for peeps who rep fake crimes
never did a minute of time
but still sayin they badass gangstas
like this cat I'm battlin in the raw
spittin off the top of the dome
quicker than you could foam
at the mouth and chomp yer bit
too inexperienced to know that a clit
is on of the keys to pleasurin a chick *
all you do is sit at yer keyboard handlin ya dick
so ya can't rep gangsta even ya wanted
eventually you'll learn never ta be daunted
by superior vocabulary but then ya get caught by the constabulary
without tryin to sound scarry ya going to jail where they'll pop ya cherry
one way or the other you'll finger it out
like one of the catholic devout
when the priest touched them in just the right errr wrong way
and when he says to where that tight red thong say
"But I love creme lollipops, father."
I'd Shout GET AWAY DON'T BOTHER.
LEMME ALONE AFORE I RIPP YA DICK OFF!
You didn't tho, ya stayed and his pole ya boffed




*one of many in all fairness