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Image for the poem 187 (The Nun Runner Series VI)

187 (The Nun Runner Series VI)

You want some of this smokeÖ yeah Iím the one doing the puffing
I will blow smoke up your ass and leave you huffing
No, my sista I donít get down with cunts I cannot wax
Hold this bitch still while I break her legs with my autographed Sammie Sosa baseball bat  
Your dumb ass done confused the tigeress with the cat
 
Coming all up to my table popping yang  
If you aint dined on Beluga Sturgeon Caviar and know how to apply pain
Then bitch you canít even say my name
This is a rich game and not for the wanna be gangsta bitches
And death to all the snitches, or the practicing fake ass witches
You still on the corner slinging my dope  
And nothing moves until I say soÖ open your eyes and read my manifesto
 
If itís no Picasso hanging on the walls, you have no land you can sell for collateral, then bitch you still mentally poe
You still breathing because I let you, I collect off your death when I say so
I deal in butter and guns
Moving products from dust to the rising of the sun
The biggest sin was convincing the world Ghost do not exist
Baby girlÖ my games is tight, consistent, and legit
 
Clout behind me from all the Miami Kingpins, and Cuban Drug Cartels
On my word, can send your ass back to hell  
And fuck you royally, if you thinking you landing on go
Iíll sell your ass for some denarius and thatís fo sho  
You want my respect, then you best come correct
Before a casket your soul will be dealt
Oh, Iím feeling youÖ you want some of dis green
Then uplift your head, you bowing down to the wrong Queen
 
My shit is solid
My Bitcoin stocks is like Capital One bitch, whatís in your wallet  
What you willing to die for  
You not even in the class of touching my secret society riches, to even settle this score  
Iíve already clipped your ass, from the skies
If I lift my Glock, your palm is mine, my initials carved after three tries
Wrists bound, gagged, no witnesses to hear your sounds
Now you see how this Queen handles her business when she gets down
On your knees, head bowed, begging for me to spare your life, looking down at my Manolo Blahnik stilettos still crying and asking why
 
Stay in your lane, son
This ainít no hide and seek, I will step to you and then watch your bitch ass run
Your skin aint made for this type of mass destruction shit
I will fuck you up and then trick your tongue out likes itís a social dick
You still on the playground talking about what you about to do
Just sell my smack, no worries, as long as the money is not short, itís all cool
I am my own empire
Money, guns with plenty of fire power
 
I got your ass on the corner selling my shit spitting to the buyers quoting my rules
You still a student being taught in my school
I do not need my Gee to take care of your timid ass
I will take you down, bury you myself then send your family a flower in your remembrance, picked from out the trash
Bring that ass here
NawíllÖ. bitch no time for snowflake tears
You sticking your chest out like you get down without fears
 
You got my Candyland all twisted
No one comes after me to be uplifted
And live to fat mouth about it
Cement tied to your shoes, pushing your dead ass over the dock, followed by my spit
Then like a GhostÖ  Iím gone
 
https://youtu.be/8X4K1BXoskY
SweetKittyCat5
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published
Author's Note
Donít Fuck With Games You Canít Play

Nun Runner
(This is An Ongoing Series-Production Rolling Out Soon)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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