The Hater

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Four part series. People hate, but don't want to be hated. This poem is about such a person. Note to reader, these poems were originally rap songs that I decided to post as poetry. Also, to read more raps check out "The Angry Gangsta" series.

Submitted: November 27, 2006

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Submitted: November 27, 2006



These cats on the radio,

Be soundin' like fools,

Spittin' 'bout some shit,

They probably never would do,

An' when they got loot,

They just spit about jewels,

While me and my team,

We still makin' the news,

Win or lose, I win,

Because I got to get paid,

Like a battling ram,

I force my way through these lames,

Run up on a come up,

Automobiles and chains,

An' when I get through,

This whole games gonna change.

Forget a Range, I'll cop a Golf,

Supit up,bronze clutch,

An' watch me be out,

120 on the highway,

With a blunt in my mouth,

Perellis keep it on track,

Steering wheel holdin' the wrap,

1000 watt woofers,

And they bumppin' my raps.

The real rep real,

An' for real, the real,

Will blow a hole in your back.

© Copyright 2019 Tyrone Slade. All rights reserved.

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