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The Hater p.t. 4

Poetry By: Tyrone Slade
Poetry



This may be the last of the hater, enjoy.


Submitted:Nov 30, 2006    Reads: 142    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


To day is a new day,

So I partake,

In representing in a new way.

It's time to put some real in the game,

Cuz' to much of these fake niggas,

Make niggas,

Grow pussies and stay that way.

I'm a dog to the definition of the word,

You niggas runnin' with herbs,

Who never would have the nerve,

To spit shells,

Instead of spittin' words.

I'm screaming drugs, guns, and ammuntion,

My ploy,

Seek, conquer, and destroy,

Any competeition.

Most of you rap cats aint hard,

Go get your daily carbs,

Power up with gateraid,

You bitch made,

You heart pumps

Chicken piss, lemon juice, and cool-aid,

Forget your egoism,

Not one of these cats got no�realism in'em





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