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Brawlstarsmann Mar 2019
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Here come dat boi hey wassup?
Watch him rollin watch him go
Watch him rollin watch him go
He be rolling down the street he be rolling to dat beat
He be rolling down the street he be rolling to dat beat
Watch him roll
Hey wassup
Watch him roll
Here come dat boi
jerely Jan 2013
Turn da bottles upside down
The bingo linggo is right up here
No need to estimate
Ain't show 'em what you got
Coz the feminine swag is right in front of you

Hit da spot,break 'em low
Erbody's on the floor,hot & cold
The center of attraction is here we go
Sweat like it's the end of the court
Make some noise,the battle is not yet done

Here is the piece of my paper
Sonnet to Haiku,get 'em yours
While i make my lyrics out of it
I bet you to sing this song
Coz It's you that I crack the most

Fly high coz im so high
This super legacy of mine
Is not yet over,bring me to the court
And I'll make you cry while you can run
Too fast to drift out of your collateral words

***** bootsy,shakin' ya *****
The tingga ling, bling bling mingle naw to da floor
Ain't gonna lose coz this **** got me pumpin'
Now I can drop ya to the floor
Coz it's fresh like a g6

Now I can flip ma hair to ya gorges face
So wassup now! And you can tumblin' down to my feet
Look what i've got, Its a brand new style
Now spin it while you can
And Open ya eyes coz dis ain't a dream

Mine is a simple yet i can make you blown out of it
From A to Z,the lines are getting ahead
Loads of fans while I can make ma audience jump to their seats
Scream to the screen,while I can star struck you to my voice
Back Off now,while It's not too late
This is a response to Chuck's gangsta poet.
This is just a poem/P.S to the rappers out there not intend meanly.
Robyn Neymour  Nov 2010
Robyn Neymour Nov 2010
“Ye without sin cast the first stone.”
No one is perfect, but I’m not justifying crime.

Men roam the streets as their little children sleep,
Ready to attack the obvious prey.
While hard working people that wants to make ends meet,
Pray with their little children or go their separate ways,
Subconsciously hoping to wake up the next day.
Though four miles away and even across the world,
Someone’s being shot, stab to death or *****.
We the country gasp in fear,
Though we the  country created the problem.
Young men and women hooked on drugs,
Partying like rock stars while hitting the clubs.
Showing off the material things, “Yea that’s wassup.”
According to the older folks this nonsense has to stop,
I do agree though, before friends create props.
Are we are neighbors keepers, or do we continue to hate?
While we make money for our bread and butter,
Some families have nowhere to stay.
Young men turn to violence,
To make money for today.
Who knows what goes on in our country,
While the light are off and the street lights are on.
What shall be revealed next?
“All a we,” suppose to be, “One Family.”
Yet our nations need to be healed.
Let’s come together “This Bahama Land”,
And lend one another a helping hand.

© RGN - Nov./3/10
I was listening to Joy Division, then I had a vision
About your momma in the kitchen, making me a chorizo.
Then in came Deanna and said "Wassup, my nizzle"
So I slapped the gurl in her face and said "*****, don't **** with my niece, yo."
This ain't a real story, so homie step back
If you don't step back, Imma smack you in the crack.
This tough front,
This altogether unlikeable first impression,
This mean, crude obnoxious scumbag,
This despicable misogynist,
This cynical misanthropic madman,
“Wassup wit dat?”
Enquiring fans of poetry want to know.
Simply stated, 'tis my oldest modus operandi,
Self-protective, learned street behavior;
My don’t-****-with–me first line of defense.
Surely some form of survival mechanism;
Meant in the narrow psychological sense.
Evidence of mental health or illness,
My cloaking device and shield,
Gift from Jove, my goombah father.
Dad: a powerful force in any child’s universe—
Be the patriarch dead, absent, retired on the job,
Out of the picture, just plain missing--or insane,
The latter, something you may not
Want to know about your gene pool.

So I’m really just a *****.
Forgive the expression, Germaine Greer.
A pussycat and big old teddy bear,
Mr. Sensitivity:
Wiping a warm washcloth between your legs.
Across puffed & pouted lips, gently.
After shooting a load of *** into you.
Or on your face: Spumante!

No, strike that last part.
Let’s start again.
I am a kind soul, a precious man.
The sort who likes animals;
Puppies, especially, and kittens too.
Savoring sunsets and flowers,
I serve you sweet gelato & Asti.
Sometimes I’ll spumante you with original love poetry.
My Muse: your gorgeous body delights me,
Your brilliant mind & noble spirit inspires.
Each night of the week I surprise you,
Prepare for you an exquisite home-cooked gourmet meal.
Served with your favorite Pinot Noir,
Brought to your elegant, candlelit dining room table,
By yours truly, wearing only a scarlet bow tie
And black silk jockstrap.
(Starting to get into this, Maureen Dowd?)
Later I’ll run you a relaxing bath,
So you’ll have something to do,
While I wash the dishes, scrub the pots,
Do a load of whites, clean your bidet,
And Swiffer®  ( the entire house.

By then, you are ready for your nightly spa treatment,
A 15-minute, deep tissue massage,
Followed by a hot oil treatment.
Next up is 30 nonstop delirious minutes,
Me, going down on you, without
Seeking any ****** gratification for myself.
In the morning I’ll make macadamia nut pancakes,
Your favorite, and brew you a fabulous cup of coffee,
From freshly ground beans, very rare beans
Salvaged from Karen Blixen’s last crop, before the fire
Completely destroyed her plantation in Kenya.
"I had a farm in Africa, Babaloo!

You can go shopping from dawn to dusk
With Ruth Madoff, while I go out & lose my soul,
Selling Dominican Republic timeshares all day and all night . . .  
(Cue West Indies Calypso: “All Day, All Night, Mary Ann!”)
Calypso-Harry Belafonte Songs, Reviews, Credits,
Awards 1956.)
I’ll still find the time to open up for you
A line of credit at your favorite nail salon.
I’ll pay for weekly bikini waxes, hair and Botox treatments,
And the odd cosmetic surgery you may require.
I’ll pay your cell phone bill; I’ll pay off your college loans.
I’ll send money to your extended family in the Ukraine.
Yeah, that’s the kind of guy I am.
Your life with me will be every woman’s dream.

And, if you believe that,
You soulless Ukrainian ****,
Then monkeys will fly out of my Wayne’s World ****,
You stupid capital C for ****-*******,
Capital B for *****.
“Arms and the Woman,”
An article in Time Magazine, conveys a statistic:
Some 20 million women in the U.S. own guns.
As the NRA instructs:
Guns don’t **** people.
Women with Glocks **** people.
Let us walk,
let them fight.
in the end we'll be alright.
You're in my site .
Just like a kite
. with out control.,
                                                              stuck on parole..
Be my boo I see right through
         You are untamed .
thiss , just inflamed.
    your'e parents fault they did not change!
there mistakes left you to blame..,
   your past my level on a second step.

that's why I look up and tell you wassup..
holding you're sane'   avoiding the lame  
You are free when you're with me
be my fighter.
Mahesh Hegde Jan 2014
Its late at night,
The most Awaiting dream comes to life,
My Heart in the space now wanders,
To feel the creator's wonders,
About the rays of light it ponders,
Origin of the universe it envies,
Treading is it to the planet of rubies,
Our GREAT GRANDFATHER, THE BIG BANG, has a highest record of Babies.
Meteros paas by around,
But they cannot hit me,
I am like a shadow here,
Everything passes through me as If I am smoke.
Hey I think I see a rainbow here,
Its a bit different in shape,
Long and wide straight stripes covering a million kilometers of the same seven colors.
I travel through black holes,
Saying, "Hey Mr. Black, You can destroy physical bodies, Try to challange this pure soul,
I have come up with some shortcuts here too, LOL,
How peaceful here the life is,
No rise and No fall,
I look at the nebula,
like, would look, billions of earth's clouds,
but painted in different colors,
The vaccum out here is so hypnotic,
A normal human would become psychotic,
Gravity here in empty pulls uniformly all over my body,
But its gentle while the pull preventing to rip me to pieces,
And then theres a road of white light which leads beyond,
But white is leading to black, this feeling's so sound.
Many small planets are arranged around it to give a bridge like effect,
Does this bridge lead to the ultimate energy,
The ultimate truth as the mortals of the earth say..
I take a step forward to commence the final journey after plenty,
Conjuring all the memories of my life to feel eternity.
As I reach the end in front of me is a small particle placed on a slab,
And the strongest of microscope above it to make it visible.
I turn around to look far away the glistening galaxies
Confined in an arrangement like nerves of a brain,
I give a smile to all my beloved,
And then touch the microsope,
It ****** me in,
And I got shooted from its otherside,
To be absorbed by particle and never to seperate.
"Hey Moksha, Wassup..?"

— The End —