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Stuck

by Demon Cash 4 years ago in performance poetry
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This One Runs the Gamut

Stuck

I feel nowhere

Please help me

I’m melting.

Show rubber

Melting

It’s funny that there’s

no black people in

business positions.

We’re all drug dealing

and gang banging. I hope

I fit that image.

I had a cramp and now

That cramp is gone

Mother fuck the cops

Mother fuck the congress

Mother fuck the niggas in the

Senate and the White House //

Mother fuck the President

Mother fuck the Vice President

And the niggas

That voted for em //

Mother fuck the Clintons

Mother fuck Obama

Mother the marines

And the army and the navy //

I don’t fuck with warfare

But yeah I got a AK

If a cop run up on me

Then you know I’m spraying //

Got a UZI on me

Nigga come and take it

End up with a bullet in your brain

And your stomach //

I’m the fucking drama

Ducking if you shooting

Bitch I got a sawed off

Come through and I’ll shoot you //

I don’t wanna shoot up

Nah I’m pretty loaded

Molly in my body

I feel fucking focused //

Shrooms all in my body

If you cool you know this

Tripping off a fucking eighth

Feeling like I’m floating //

Call me pretty Flacko

Jodie from the west side

Tripping on some acid

So fried I got tan lines //

Devil on my mind now

Solar plexus vibing

In that fucking pussy

Feeling like a primate //

Why I got my eyes closed

Depressions good at hiding

Running out of options

Suicide my mind state //

Shot gun in my mouth now

Feel like Kurt Cobain

Acid in my system

Feel like Jimmi Hendrix //

Pills all in my system

Feel like Amy Winehouse

Good shit in my crack pipe

Feel like Whitney Houston //

Fuck Adolf Hitler and

Everything he said

But I feel like the man

with an Aryan bitch //

She likes the coke In her nose

And she might do that meth

She looks good in her sweats

And looks good in a dress //

She might pop a pistol

If you talk that shit

She might pop a xanny

So don’t blow her high //

She might pop the pussy

If I ask real nice

She might do the shooting

If we pull a drive by //

Wheels are pirelli I press

brake and they skirt

She don’t got a problem

with my hands up her skirt //

One hand on the wheel

Got one hand on my girl

Yeah you know she shooting

If I pull up //

Warrants out for me

And I don’t give a fuck

Mother fuck the police

And the sheriff fasho //

performance poetry

About the author

Demon Cash

Contact: [email protected]

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