Woke up at six,
Needed some money,
But how do you think I got where I am without cunning?
No bitches coming through with that cash for ass
So I had to come up with a plan to buy glass.
Started my car
Drove to a bar
Forty ounces later I was ready to start.
Stumbling to the curb with a glock in hand
The bank across the street
And I am one man.
I called for a crew from my side of the block,
but they were laid out, been smokin’ the rock.
Walked through the door
Out on the floor
Checked out the teller, she’d be a nice whore
While it may seem I was pressing my luck
Even more than money I like to…..
Sirens to the back
My mack attack
Would have to hold off for the “gat gat gat”
“Put down the gun and your hands in the air”
Grip on the trigger and I didn’t care
This was my day for feelin’ too hot
Next thing I knew it was black,
I was shot.
And I died.
The End.
2 comments:
This one has to go in the children's book, too. A very moral poem if I do say so myself.
It's funny because I wrote this for English 131 back in '06 and I was listening to a lot of NWA reading Shel Silverstein, which is where I got the idea for the ending.
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