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Image for the poem Cracula

Cracula

It was Halloween night, no Michael Myers in sight.
I was dressed up as a mime, ready to get high as a kite!

I was no juggalo, but I played ICP in the whip.
As I burnt rubber towards downtown to get me some shit.

With my barnett in platts, I headed down to the flats.
That was full of dope feins, like the roaches, and rats.

I was approached by a straggly haired lady, she looked like a banshee.
A hag of the mist type, and asked me for some Mandy.

I said "I've got nothing on me lady, now leave me alone!"
As I proceeded to my dealer, to call him at his home.

He lived at the top tower block, up a spiral of apples, and pears.
I gave him a rapid knock, to make sure he was there...

Cracula opened up his door, but he wasn't in disguise.
He always looked zombified, with dark rings under his eyes.

He had a pet bat, that flew freely around his flat.
And never got attacked by his matt-black cat!

Cracula was OG, your average Joe wouldn't know where he's been.
He wore a chunky gold rope chain like Run DMC.

He sported a black NY cap, and a tatt of a ganja leaf on his neck.
He wore a romper stomper bomber jacket, and had boat-race like a train wreck.
Written by Lowko (Jimi Tatz)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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