Image for the poem Moving The Kilos...

Moving The Kilos...

Havana, Cuba    

Moving the Kilos
Hum, who would ever suspect, a sexy stripper in tow    
Moving currency from sunrise to sunset for you    
You fuck me over, Glock and Beretta holes, your just due    
Looking down at my platinum LadyJust Rolex    
Then my Blackberry screen, no fucking text as of yet    
Where the fuck is this nigga, who thinks his gangsta ass is John Gotti    
Who assume I am beneath him, his crew just because I’m a butter rum hottie    
On my way to meet my connection at the agreed private landing strip    
No time for any delays from the FBI, CIA, or getting caught up in any DEA bullshit    
I just want to make it back in one piece in the comforts of New York, then get me some weakening tender tongue licks    
Where to ma’am    
Just keep driving, and when I say stop, brakes you slam    
So, no questions amigo just keep moving until I say stop    
Continue to drive faster if I say the scene looks hot    
Yes ma’am    
My Blackberry finally vibrating, looking down at my screen, well hot dam    
Speak and make the syllables roll quick    
What! My nose candy is the pure shit    
Guaranteed to get any fuck, straight up lit    
So, come correct, I have no time for this      
My boy gave you his highest praise, but if you a snitch    
Your severed body parts will be found in a motherfucking ditch    
Now, shut the fuck and listen bitch    
I need you to move this weight along    
I did give your boy a sample utilizing that drone    
I need to be in the sky, once my stilettos steps onto tarmac    
It was hell getting out that sweltering hotel room, I had to watch my own fucking back    
X marking the devil’s spot    
I got the keys, the money, you come up short, bullets with no name will drop    
What motherfucker!    
This bitch I’m talking to think they’re dealing with some type of city sucker    
We got problems, just up ahead, pirates, and strapped to their hips is some serious looking heat    
Wha…what the fuck! Dammit! You got to be kidding me, I smell a set up before my private meet    
Wait until I catch up with that bastard, his blood from his heart, I will slowly drain in my cup    
Cuba, and this bad ass luck    
Lifting my skirt, pulling out my Beretta 3032 Tomcat from out my leg holster in anger    
Checking the chamber    
Those fucks are looking for somebody’s head    
I guess it’s time they feel the burn of my hollow-point lead    
Lifting my Blackberry, Gee, I’m blindly rolling into trouble here    
Are you serious! Where the fuck are you! And is the coast clear    
I need more guns, the Cartels      
Cartels! What the hell!    
Those back-stabbing fucks are known to take what’s not theirs    
True that, but I refuse to go home empty handed while cruising in the air    
I got you sexy, me and my boys have some government issued toys    
Then blow some shit up and make some noise    
Can you hold out until my crew can get you some cover    
I have no fucking choice, and hurry the fuck up, these greedy bastards are starting to hover    
Fuck! I need your boys to get me out this shit    
No doubt, a bloodbath if so, and the last man standing, will not be those dicks    
I need guns, a Kevlar vest, a tinted Hummer, some grenades and the straight shots from the bullets of a G-man hit    
Written by The_Nun_Runner
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