Image for the poem You About To Get Served And Straight Dealt (Ghosting That Ass IV Of V)

You About To Get Served And Straight Dealt (Ghosting That Ass IV Of V)

My Queen, the Mexican Cartel want a sit down meeting with you          
Nobody wants an all out war in the streets between the crews            
Gee, how long have you known me            
I will fuck you up our shoot you in your head while you on your knees            
Adversity and taking a nigga out, while you half past dead, bleeding out, and still begging for your life with a oh no, please                
And bring me that weird looking ass bitch, I heard he was the inside snitch            
just make sure to keep your hand on the trigger in case the fuck gives you some of that West Coast lip            
His mouth been circuiting around the hood            
Its time I bend his ass over and make my Rottweiler give him his hard wood            
I feel you, my Queen, that poser has been talking some dumb ass shit        
And he not even a Crip             
Well, its time he feels the burn from my Glock when it clicks            
Then send his bitch ass mama a white rose            
And keep a car spotted on his family's crib in case we have to TNT when we flow            
Make sure you send his ripped out heart in a box in farewell            
In remembrance to her son for talking out the side of his mouth, before I sent his ass to hell            
But before you snuff him out            
Stuff those thorns as far down his mouth            
Until the Coroner have no choice but to pull them out from down south            
Bash his head in to let him or his peeps know neither cannot float my boat                  
Damn Gee, you best not bring this war            
Fuck that shit, that nigga selling wolf tickets, led pierced my thigh, now he can feel the heat of my Smith & Wesson roar
Thank goodness it was just a flesh wound
And you will be sitting at the head of your table real soon
Since this motherfucker craves the spotlight            
The shit goes down tonight            
Make those shell casings pop-pop when my Hummer swerves            
Riddle his body then toss his bloody remain on the curve            
And make sure you brand my initials in his palm with my hot poker            
To let his crew know they about to get straight served            
I feel you, My Queen… and that’s word            
And then we go after those Russian fucks who can’t respect the game            
Bullets from my Glock and Forty-Five have no names            
You supposed to be resting up, my Queen, staying on the down low            
Revenge is a dish best served cold            
We will kill those fucks and then take their money and the dope            
And bring me that fuck who is responsibility for this            
Man, woman, a dick or a clit            
You got it, my Queen            
And Gee            
Keep the hit clean            
No doubt...            
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Author's Note
You Got Me Gee... then Let's Do This Shit

The Nun Runner
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