You a ***,
You a ***,
You a ***,
An nothin bout it,
For more information please contact poison control at 647-866-1219
Cause ***** you eaten too much ****,
So pazass yo ***,
Or I shred yo ***** like grass

Or nah
Gratata,
Dis aint nothin but raw

takin the load down the dirt road,
thinkin about the reggae girl me once loved,
boy did i like the way she rubbed,
i notice me rasta themed pants had a little bump,
me third leg was feelin a little stiff,
i decided to light me a little splif,
me started to rub thee bumb in me pant,
no way i was bout to stop, no way, no chance,
i feel a sensation, me son is Croatian,
me lost control of me rig and next ting ya kno,
me in the ditch wit at sticky hand,
me **** leg cost me 1900.00 annually in
insurance. me learned dat me dont
have much indurance. da lesson to be
learned is if your feeling an itch on ya
**** leg, pullover because if ya dont
you be broke as a reggae boy lost at sea

A def musician
can't enjoy his song.
A blind painter
can't admire his work.
If that's true,
then I'm not a poet.
Just a reggae boy imitating...
making a fool of myself.
Cafe's napkins never record
my moments of inspiration.
So what am I?
Am I a poet,
or just a island boy?
I care not for title....all I know,
I'm in love with poetry.

®Andre Pinnock

I was just chillin, watching tv
When Sarah McLachlan looked right at me
She was holding a puppy, abused by its owner, I couldn't understand why
When I saw the poor pupper all whimpering and sad, I couldn't help but cry
My tears landed in a *** of dirt I keep next to my sink
Out from the *** a kush plant sprung, i knew it by the stink
My boy Rondelle
He smelled the smell
And rolled up with some papers
We rolled it up
We took some puffs
And breathed that sweet and sour vapour.