The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.
delascabezas

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Warning, with apologies to Biggie and bruteforcemethd (who did this first)



Who the fuck is this?
pagin me at 5:46 in the mornin crack a dawnin
now I'm yawnin, wipe the cold out my eye
see who's this pagin me and why..


Zounds! Mine eyes are still caked with sleeping dust!
Who breaks my sleep so close to the dawn's light?


It's my nigga PAC from the barbershop
told me he was in the gamblin spot and heard the intricate plot
some niggaz wanna stick you like fly paper neighbour
slow down love please chill drop the caper


It is my comerade of old, PAC!
Who told me that when carousing with men,
of ill repute, and questionable past...
Fiends! They informed him they wanted my death!


remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville?
that you rolled dice wit
smoked the blunts and got nice wit
yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect
nah dem my niggaz nah love wouldn't disrespect


From whom did you get this ill fram-ed news?

From your old gambliing patners from Prospect!

Nay, they know me of old, and would not dare
disprespect the honor of my good name!


I didn't day dem, they schooled me to some niggaz
that you knew from back when,
when you was clockin minor figures


You jump to strong conclusions my good man!

I did not refer to your old comerades,
but rather, they informed me of the plot;
the would-be assasins know you of old.


Now they heard you blowin up like nitro
know they wanna stick the knife
through your windpipe slow..


However, they have heard of your recent
crossing with Providence and great riches!
They mean to slay you, and gain your fortune,


so thank Fame for warnin me cuz I'm warnin you
I got the mac Biggie
tell me what you wanna do...


Award your ally for informing me
of the evil and dire plot against you!
My sword is yours for the asking! Inform
me of where it's keen edge should strike truly.


[CHORUS x4]
Damn niggas wanna stick me for my papers

Mine eyes have seen corruption to the core!
The treachury of old friends makes me ill.
My riches make them forget all the times
my kindess kept them from a debtor's death.


[VERSE 2]
They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus
wit the Texas license plates outta state
they heard about the pounds
you got down in Georgetown
now they heard you got half of Virginia locked down
they even heard about the crib
you bought your moms out in Florida
the fifth corridor....


They are well versed in your wealth and riches.
They know of the palace of your mother,
and your rich estates in Virginia.
They even know about the carraiges
They know of the carriages from afar.


Call the coroner
there's gonna be alot of slow singin
and flower bringin
if my burgular alarm starts ringin


Go wake the undertaker so that when
my watchman should call out ' Trusspassers, Ho!'
he will be ready to wake the mourners.


whatcha think all the guns is for?
all purpose war got the rottweilers by the door
and I feed em gun powder so they can devour
The criminals tryin to drop my decimals


My plethora of arms are not rusted!
My hounds have teeth as sharpened as my swords.
They shall rend intruders like hot butter
before the fury of a hot blade-edge.



DAMN.. niggaz wanna stick my for my C.R.E.A.M.
and in a dream things ain't always what it seems


It is a great crime
That fame and riches corrupt
your friends of the past!


It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha
see your picture, now they wanna
grab they guns and come and getcha


It is always those you know best, of old,
whose ire is raised at mention of your fame.
They seek to dispatch me for my riches,
thinking me yesterday's weakling fighter.


Betcha Biggie won't slip
I got the calico with the black talions loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put they bodies in a bad prediciment
where all the foul niggas went


I assure you, my resolve is quite firm.
The convictions of my weapon and the
hand which wields it's killing power shall
not falter when the bloodletting begins.


Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck with what I had you with
you motherfuckers betta duck


Touch my cheese, and feel the edge of my blade!
If I swing my weapon at your person,
you had best roll low, lest I behead you.


I bring pain, blood stains on what remains
Had to jack-it, he had a gun he should've packed it


My hands seek the blood of my enemies!
If my foe had a sword, he should have drawn.


Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
so I can reload and explode down ya rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore, C-4 to ya door no beef no
more(nigga)


My blade is ready to kill you and your
entire family, and next of kin,
My bloody wath will only be complete
when everyone you know has met their end!


Feel the rush, scandalous
The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous
I dont give a fuck about chu or your weak crew
What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you
im not runnin, nigga I bust my gun in
Hold on I hear somebody comin...


Feel the warm summer breeze run through your hair?
It is the last thing you shall ever know
before my wrath destroys all you and yours...
I am no coward! I shall stand and face
whatever you can bring to my doorstep.
My honor demands I shall not retreat.
Lo, I hear the skulkers stalk through the grass...


Such an iambic pentameter nerd!


Tags: humor, poetry
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 11 comments