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The Hater p.t. 3

Poetry By: Tyrone Slade

And some more of the Hater.

Submitted:Nov 30, 2006    Reads: 133    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

This criminal has come,

To kick ass and chew bubble gum,

And I'm all out of bubble gum,

So I chew weed stems,

Soaked in spanish rum.

You sons 'round here, you get none.

Word is born,

Don't get your head blown,


Like hirosheama after that A-bomb.

Take my advice and kill you self,

You screaming THUG LIFE!,

When you fresh up out your momma's house.

Kid I thought I told you,

You roll with or get rolled on,

When I roll though.

I thought you had better sense,

Then to try to show off you arrogance,

I'll make you doubt your masculines,

You been a fagget ever since I brought the pain,

Disrupting your train of thought,

Crinkle your chains in notts,

My uppercut got you nigga seeing spots.

Word to life, you kids just ain't ready,

Fuck being friendly,

All I need is my weed and remmy,

And mister semi,


It gets tragic,

When this hell razer,

is raising havoc.


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