Post by Dru Tha Merc on Dec 17, 2010 2:49:21 GMT -5
(Dear readers,
So I don’t know if anyone cares for poetry, at all, or if any, but I decided to turn my promo into something of a poetic reading, because to be honest, I like trying new and creative ways of promos. Truth be told, I don’t expect to win with this, but I have been tweaking and touching up on it all week, because I am trying new stuff, and I’m always for trying new stuff when it comes to e-feds, or being creative. Again, I don’t expect to win with this, but I wanna give a nice fight so I wanted to do something off the wall. I honestly don’t know if I’ll have time for another promo for the week, but hopefully this shall be a nice promo to read upon.
It’s a poem, Street poetry if you will, hence the title of the promo.)
Ain’t no word about money,
‘Cause my money is time.
Ain’t no word about the life,
‘Cause my life is grime.
Useless, ruthless, and above all, a duelist,
The nigga who would sell his mother for Prewett’s.
But don’t talk shit ‘cause my little nigga’s sleepin’,
And e’reybody wanna know where my boy be keepin’
‘Cause the family’s starvin’, they reachin’ for the streets,
But everybody wanna know where I got this seats,
Floor-seats, to a Orlando Magic game,
And yet everybody wanna call a nigga lame.
The streets is on fire, no one can sleep,
Unless you get a put on that six feet deep.
And why you so lonely, why you untold,
I was bustin’ caps at nine years old.
Lonelier enough, I was lonely but tough,
And had the tenacity of niggas with the gruff,
Niggas devoured the streets,
But cower before beats,
Don’t you deny that you held a whole heart,
While holding such loves,
You is a man of whole part,
I don’t do love, doves, and all that rule shit.
I can’t say words ‘cause that’s that bullshit.
Dear Johnny Noble, your streets is on fire,
But don’t get bent out of shape,
Shit don’t be perspire,
Shit don’t love a younger brother who don’t inspire,
I can’t respect a nigga who don’t rise above shadow,
And I won’t respect a man who don’t lie though.
‘If you hate your brother, prove us all wrong,
Dick me out quicker then a trannie in a thong.
Dick me out quicker then a nigga who would figure,
That the only way he could get by is sayin’ the word “nigga”.
Why you hate you family,
On second thought I got you,
I hate Lyn as much as you hate ‘Kurt’few.
Yet you got yours, and I got mines,
You got your mission, I got my assignment
You got life, and you got refinement,
All I got is a 40 and the defining…
Moment when I snuff you, stomp you,
Dissect you,
And at this moment in time, whose gonna protect you?
Life be a bitch,
I be her predicament,
I’mma press on your teeth like a tube of Fix-a-Dent.
Define it,
Refinite it,
Align it,
We done it.
You couldn’t imagine how much money I’m getting’ paid on top of it.
In the strangest way, the dangerous way,
You just like me,
And the worst of all thing,
I’m kicking the ass of me.
You want you family to suffer,
That’s me.
You want you fam to get rougher,
That’s D.
But who would know,
Who would blow,
When the time comes, the rhyme runs,
I can’t devour the street, that’s rhyme fun.
I can’t devour the lies, that’s my fun.
I can devour your soul though,
That’s low though,
But you the man who stooped to this level,
That you though.
So I don’t know if anyone cares for poetry, at all, or if any, but I decided to turn my promo into something of a poetic reading, because to be honest, I like trying new and creative ways of promos. Truth be told, I don’t expect to win with this, but I have been tweaking and touching up on it all week, because I am trying new stuff, and I’m always for trying new stuff when it comes to e-feds, or being creative. Again, I don’t expect to win with this, but I wanna give a nice fight so I wanted to do something off the wall. I honestly don’t know if I’ll have time for another promo for the week, but hopefully this shall be a nice promo to read upon.
It’s a poem, Street poetry if you will, hence the title of the promo.)
Ain’t no word about money,
‘Cause my money is time.
Ain’t no word about the life,
‘Cause my life is grime.
Useless, ruthless, and above all, a duelist,
The nigga who would sell his mother for Prewett’s.
But don’t talk shit ‘cause my little nigga’s sleepin’,
And e’reybody wanna know where my boy be keepin’
‘Cause the family’s starvin’, they reachin’ for the streets,
But everybody wanna know where I got this seats,
Floor-seats, to a Orlando Magic game,
And yet everybody wanna call a nigga lame.
The streets is on fire, no one can sleep,
Unless you get a put on that six feet deep.
And why you so lonely, why you untold,
I was bustin’ caps at nine years old.
Lonelier enough, I was lonely but tough,
And had the tenacity of niggas with the gruff,
Niggas devoured the streets,
But cower before beats,
Don’t you deny that you held a whole heart,
While holding such loves,
You is a man of whole part,
I don’t do love, doves, and all that rule shit.
I can’t say words ‘cause that’s that bullshit.
Dear Johnny Noble, your streets is on fire,
But don’t get bent out of shape,
Shit don’t be perspire,
Shit don’t love a younger brother who don’t inspire,
I can’t respect a nigga who don’t rise above shadow,
And I won’t respect a man who don’t lie though.
‘If you hate your brother, prove us all wrong,
Dick me out quicker then a trannie in a thong.
Dick me out quicker then a nigga who would figure,
That the only way he could get by is sayin’ the word “nigga”.
Why you hate you family,
On second thought I got you,
I hate Lyn as much as you hate ‘Kurt’few.
Yet you got yours, and I got mines,
You got your mission, I got my assignment
You got life, and you got refinement,
All I got is a 40 and the defining…
Moment when I snuff you, stomp you,
Dissect you,
And at this moment in time, whose gonna protect you?
Life be a bitch,
I be her predicament,
I’mma press on your teeth like a tube of Fix-a-Dent.
Define it,
Refinite it,
Align it,
We done it.
You couldn’t imagine how much money I’m getting’ paid on top of it.
In the strangest way, the dangerous way,
You just like me,
And the worst of all thing,
I’m kicking the ass of me.
You want you family to suffer,
That’s me.
You want you fam to get rougher,
That’s D.
But who would know,
Who would blow,
When the time comes, the rhyme runs,
I can’t devour the street, that’s rhyme fun.
I can’t devour the lies, that’s my fun.
I can devour your soul though,
That’s low though,
But you the man who stooped to this level,
That you though.