deepundergroundpoetry.com

Image for the poem Moving The Kilos III (Cashing Out)

Moving The Kilos III (Cashing Out)

You got me G, and thanks for the tip  
Yeah, I’ve heard this nigga be talking cash shit  
I know where his ass be head up, it’s time for me to send this bitch  
Be careful this fuck wears many disguises  
You can fuck his bitch, just give me the lye  
I thought he was your boy  
What, just a substitute when I don’t want to play with expensive toys  

A booster listed on my speed dial, when I need some loose cash  
Got his money, his hard dick, and then sold him some nose trash  
Wait, we got the dope and the money  
Naw it’s about a fuck not paying homage to this butter rum honey  
You got the grenades, let’s ATM his ass  
The last bitch in high heels, won’t be his feet, after this last task  
 
Why don’t you let a nigga handle this  
Naw I got this, this is some easy shit  
I won’t have to flash him my clit  
Suck on his flaccid dick  
Or let him nutt all up in my wet slit  
 
You are one ruthless bitch  
With the feline grace of a kitty cat, yet, will take out a snitch  
Mean streets mastered, and my shit is still legit  
You know how we we cash out a nigga East Coast style  
Put his ass six feet under, he’ll still be asking the maggots why  
 
Motherfucker you ready to do this shit with me  
All bets are off, this ain’t about no tease  
You have messed with the wrong dick sucker  
Watch your back, if not, I got friends in high places, moving dope and bodies like a conductor  
 
There that punk ass nigga go  
As usual, with some dead beat broke looking hoe  
Do his ass, put his mouth out commission  
Yeah, you right, he was the one came to my pond lip talking and fishing  
 
Pop Pop, and just like that  
Look at the motherfucker now bleeding on his back  
This is personal, so let me get a closer look  
Oh, you thought you were the shit, now you squirming on my hook  
 
Not stepping to me correct  
Showing me and my crew disrespect  
Chest all swollen, yet, how my stilettoes feel crushing your neck  
Talking shit and feeling yourself  
In the throne under my hollow points talk bitch, you between life and death  
 
Bae shoot that punk ass nigga, and let’s bounce  
But before we do, take all this motherfucker’s money and his ounces  
And such a sad shame, I liked you, for your G game  
Tell the Devil I said hello bitch, in hell, just remember my name  
Pop Pop
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published
Author's Note
Now as far as the organization selling drugs, no. Individuals selling drugs is something else.

Chuck Zito
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 0
comments 4 reads 509
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 9:21pm by The_Darkness_Insid
SPEAKEASY
Today 8:51pm by Rew
COMPETITIONS
Today 8:37pm by Viddax
SPEAKEASY
Today 8:19pm by Ahavati
POETRY
Today 8:15pm by ajay
SPEAKEASY
Today 7:29pm by The_Darkness_Insid