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Sofia Von Jul 2014
Summer heat summer sweet
With a wealthy nature, rich pheromones erupt
Birds n tha bees escape the trees
Please don't plant your seeds
But throw the leaves
Up n up
To get down and drop
Where the dirt pops
Ken keseys ashes
Edible umbrellas turn rainy days on their head spinning pupils wide void of discontentment
Fairies fly off clouds and stars fall at day
Impossible, feelings are blown in and out of proportion to fit a screen thats too small
Tough love
Tough life
Slick surface don't let me fall off the boat as it rocks
Swisher wraps over the curves
Got me feelin lucky like a charm
Cheef all day got me smellin dank as a Rastafarian Only stoppin to sip my Captain Morgans moonshine
Till we hit the caribbean
Then Jack's got me headin for tides end
Early
Flush the bile outta your system
And spiral out of controls iron hand
**** responsibility, Apathy rules all.

Paper crane ******* get all superficial but yellow bones make my brain go fuzzy in smokey ***
In n out, fast n slow
Nicotine dominates
My senses are lost at Molly
That ***** finger ****** my life
Made me *** every time
This unhealthy relation in action doesn't phase me yet, I'm too young to think that far
I mean
What do you expect?
A Teens crowded perceptions can be judged like a bums intentions.
Peace my brotha
Dandy danny says theres a way out
-side with the rap culture
Shots of rebellion pour through the cracks we each fill
The glass
Is too cracked to be see-through

West coast vibes kick back lax attitude I carry on my shoulders
Forever green is my state
Wash that **** off your lawn crack *** haters I'll spray paint your ***
Equality's the goal
**** race
**** sexuality
I see soul
Open up
Show me your beat
I'll count bars as we spit elicited slurs drizzled to drops leaving the cops to stop us
Quit
Obeyin the brand
Cunning Linguist Nov 2013
[Verse 1]
Monster sized swag; not modest bout my splendor
Marvel at the flag and I'm the ultimate avenger
Buck Rodgers, D-Bird yep I'm the number one contender,
So I gotta uphold this rep of bein uncontrollable
so I'll take the lead, I hold the world beneath my feet
I'm a fiend, elite
Haze so cloudy cause I be blowin Swisher Sweets
Drug addiction is my disease
It's my expertise
See here's the masterpiece:
Raps lobotomize
I'm traumatized since 1993

[Verse 2]
Victimized by the lies
of this trifilin enterprise
You can front but you can't hide
There's no fault behind your eyes
So I hope this insult will suffice
It should come as no surprise
A grin will spread across my face
From side to side
My ***** mouth will mesmerize
hypnotized, memorize
the words that escape my lips
I'm a degenerate unabridged uncut
You're a ******* ****
Go hang yourself from a bridge
Here's a rope, I hope you choke

******* ******* smoochie smoochie
Only chains you got is Gucci
Y’all basic brothers rep that set
But fake like that 2chi

[Verse 3]
man I get so high,
Now watch me get higher
Watch me take flight
As my wings soar skyward
You know I'ma fighter
So watch me take my place
As I eat this rap game up
and then spit it in your face
Now pass me a lighter
see me rollin while I bake
I mean I'm not a pastry maker,
but I still bake for the sake
My rhymes are so ill
They're gonna make you sick
I be tweetin on my twitter
While Betty Crocker ***** my ****, uh

[Verse 4]
Reid between the lines son and please proceed with caution
Alien splittin kilos, I be one tweaked ****** martian
I'm five steps ahead and these haters ****** forfeit
You four feet tall and I'm so high I'm in ****** orbit
Make these snitches sleep with fishes
How ****** vicious spittin mischief
****** trippin out these hypocrites
Dishin out these disses which
Bein inconsiderate
in this fast paced game of chase
But if I wanted to catch your drama
I'd just go check my facebook page *****
"Reid between the lines son.." Is a double entendre, my name is Reid so it's saying I'm between lines of snorting *insert illicit substance* and read between the lines. Buck Rodgers and D-Bird are a couple rap aliases from in the day.
Swish Swoosh Swisher Sound
Cold Draw. Smoke Bomb. Blasted Fans
Drew Estate Acquired
Ok!

Kush in my swisher
***** in my cup
Drugs in my system
Now I don't give a ****
What!
I said!
I don't give a ****!
If You don't give a ****!
We don't give a ****!
With this Kush in our swisher
***** in our cup
Drugs in our system
Turn the music up!
Louder!
Cause I don't give a ****!
If You don't give a ****!
We don't give a ****!
What! What?
I said IDGAF!
If you don't give a ****
We don't give a ****


All Rights Reserved Sean Antonio Tyson 2013
L.A.D.B
Writing, recording and performing this song. L.A.D.B's second anthem off the highly anticipated mix tape. It's sure to have the whole club head banging!
Georgina Ann Jul 2011
I remember tottering
in too-high heels,
and rolling through
the Hollywood Hills.

I remember the tide,
pummeling the pier,
as your saline lips
pressed against my cheek.

I remember coffee
and candy apples
and cole slaw
and swisher sweets.

I remember
mellow-minded sugar drops
and static-energy power pills.

I remember your smell
on my skin
and your tingle
on my tongue.
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
There's a prophet on the railway
He's coming with a book
Written by a woman
And blessed by a crook
The station's been preparing
For his arrival, coming soon
He doesn't know a single person
In the town under the moon

His robes are made of velvet
And his chains out of gold
His eyes look about a hundred
Yet he's only twenty-two years old
His hands are un-calloused
With pages stapled to his chest
In his mind he believes
That he alone knows best

His name came from Berkley
But he hails from the south
His mother gave him nothing
So he found his own way out
In the dead of the night by his candlelight
He heard a voice calling him
It told to me ride north
And let the people rejoice him

On their Sunday feast he sets down his feet
In a town of simple heads
He gets on a podium
And he lifts them from their beds
He promises them redemption
He promises them the end
And with just a touch of his hand
He promises they'll be heaven sent

It's been six long years
And his statue's turning green
Just like his money
Which lights his swisher sweets
He knows his just a man
Made of flesh and rotten skin
He knows this and yet
He's the one who wins
Cary Fosback Dec 2011
I know a man who smokes to die
With cobalt smog on his breath
Breaks his back to live a lie
Sweats himself to faster death

His dreams replaced with picket fences
His life replaced with a wife
Her needs placed in his defenses
Her heart that causes all his strife

He traded it in for minivans
He placed his hope between her arms
In the end his body stands
In his mind his ego breaks

I know a man who smokes to die
Who died too young, he’s in his prime
He gave up the spirit without a fight
And saw the light without a sign

At the end of the road, an end foreseen
At the end of the day, a bed to rest
A white wedding with his best dressed friend
A man smokes away his domestic best

Just like his dad, his cigar is lit
Just like his dad, his party’s done
It arrived today, his bridle and bit
It happened this way: he’s daddy’s son

I know a man who smokes to die
He became something he detests
The pearly life suburbanite
His last cigars were laid to rest
The last of his adventure died
With his smokes now in his chest
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I got no more ***** on my arms, vaginal schemes and gospel psalms. Very private skinny tribes, lit up with oversized black lights. In the very end, everybody walks this way, they all move like idioms, they all wanna be lit up like stars. Some could be prevalent like cascading dreams, nauseous just like mesquite BBQ baby-back wings.

Fly away little bird, fly away. But don't try to leave
Or you won't get paid.

I know very well, just what kinda caption your capsaicin
Can be, lit up like honey blunts, golden stars on top of your christmas tree. Strawberry Swisher Sweets, Blueberry Dunhill flavors, poke your hand through the fence, make friendly on your neighbors. If you like Kimmel Live, Conan at Midnight too, recipes for the zombies, SS ****** Youth. Blow-up and be a party. Get off work and drink your check. Get down, get off- I'll show you. Just how Martin pays the rent.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
☺☻╬☻

Finish the crackers --- grab a smoke . . .
of Ferguson my muse will sing.
A call to arms --- God’s fires to stoke;
let Truth and Freedom ring!

Take to the streets; avenge this wrong
and hasten the end of racist rule.
Justice, though it may tarry long
will find its target in the duel.

Young Michael Brown, like all true saints
found himself craving Swisher Sweets.
He robbed a store, whose camera paints
impartial portrait. In the streets

the thief refused to be detained
and so threw off police restraint.
Though sin escaped, the Law remained
and made a martyr of this saint.

The agitators did their thing:
inflaming thugs to smash and loot,
while racists baited hooks, to string
the press. Officials followed suit.

Angels, although not always kind,
do not display this attitude –
aware of how the police mind
responds to such ingratitude.

We ought to thank the police force
for showing mercy under stress.
The culprit chose a foolish course
and made a God-awful mess.

Prince Michael met ignoble fate
(that ghetto-Christ, that righteous youth)
His sacrifice in vain --- though great,
could not impede the march of Truth.

Ferguson, our eyes turn towards you . . .
are you now able to admit
while reality rewards you
that looting and lying ain’t ****?
¡ Hypocrite readers -  I salute you !
almost a thousand have read this immortal screed and not ONE of you
dares to LIKE it. Poetic wusses all. Social Justice is on the way.
☻ ?  ☻
gin
gin reminds me of
black birds
{singing
               in the dead
of
night
}
  when i want to
take my
                 b   r   o   k  e   n
wings
        &
learn               y
          to       l
                 f
of flowers
blooming in
                       january
and
slightly-sweet country music
of
{almost}
thunderstorms and orange
blossoms
of wearing
too much
mascara
               and blush
just to walk around                    
                                       naked
in my kitchen
of cheeks
flushed
and the taste of lime
and gingerale
                         on the pads of
my
fingers
of restless nights
when days are     l         o      n     g
and sweet cosmos
and wine
don't   cut the    edg
e
and the
                 sting
of lavender laundry detergent
on a paper cut
                          of
being a
GROWNwoman and realizing
that
childhood
doesn't
                   end.
or stop.
when you
walk
         a      c    r    o    ss
a stage
of t
u m
b l
e
off of a summer warmed s
                                               l
                                                    i
                                                        d
                                                             e
of swisher
                   sweets
and wind chimes
in north carolina
of pressed powder and the tastes of
watered down
iced coffee
{coffee
ice
shake
almond milk
pour}
with no sugar
I do this for the ones who died to bring about the change
it's hard to stop the crying when you're standing in the rain
Our politicians lying they're just on a campaign  
I realize with three eyes on my astral plane
breaking down a swisher filling it with Mary Jane
So I won't go insane from this knowledge that I've gained
the consequence of speaking out a bullet in your brain
or a one way trip to Guantanamo Bay
Join Forces with the Killers Rest In Peace J.F.K
Man Lacking Knowledge of who killed M.L.K
Like a wolf in sheep's clothing they are not who they portray
as yall can tell I'm back with the word play I see
Brothers killing brothers over colors that they claim
While our sisters are exploited for a dollar and some change
their fathers either dead or locked up in the chain gang
cause they were labeled felons for trafficking *******
Mama drop out of school and entered the dope game
was known to pull tricks and do strange things for change
they wanna chill with the gang but when it's time to bang
you'll find out that some of these suckers just wanted to hang
Millions are locked in a cage millions make minimum wage
It's like we're trapped in a maze trying to fulfill our days
while we're wasting our nights we're slowly fading away
Do you understand the message this is trying to convey?
©2013
Tupac wanted me to tell yall something... eerie I wrote it all down... T.H.U.G Life was written June 9, 2013
Rolling Up*

Swisher split; gutted out, stuffed back in with some indo trees. Tucked right in, pull it over lick the edge close it up & roast that ****!
Bought me a swisha

Rolled 'er into a fat blunt

Smoked 'er all alone

I be aving me a sad swisha
anyone in tdot wanna reach
welcome to houston texas
we roll swangas n swishers
we might hit cha
with the torch
if ya dont know where ya stand
in the ghetto we never let go
of painful memories
we got brothers get shot by cops
to brothers getting got
by they own i try not to led a path of sin on my own
phone home
soon to be at the crossroads
knockin at thugs mansion door
got **** how did i get smoked
i thought i was backed by my locs
now im sittin with malcolm
and martin n garvey
enjoying a smoke
wish i could reach deep into the pains
of black folks brain
and let em know
we used to be kings n queens
but **** dont flipped
once they change the color of the script
but ***** i peep game since i was embryo
last of a dying breed corrupt seed
we can changr indeed
we just gotta change waht our minds feed
but we too intrigue
from the worlds scent
a ghetto ih


now that've got your intention
lets form a syndication
reform strategize black nation
we all brothers from haitan to jamacian makin
nothing but flawless beats
smokin swisher sweets at the swap meet
or better yet the bayou classic
listenin to magic
1 0 2 point one everybody having fun
without the use of a gun
buts ther3s always one
that wanna start ****
got his wig split
now take a picture for yo casket
wish times wasnt so hard
but im always on the guard
sneaky *** white supremacy
pushin gay antics
miss with that semantic
yall aint slick
so let me hit ya with some of the realist
rhymes that make up for the crimes cuz im
tired of this ****** poor livin
everyday sinning
no winning stuck at a permenant loss
but somehow my soul still grows
even though the world be a ghetto the ghetto
My minds filled with word banks
the ink spills, the words paint
a collage of love and hate,
Do you believe that destiny is the same as fate?
I write because something inside of me wants to escape.
Confiding in writing my thoughts often keep me awake.
Inhale...
             Exhale...
                       Wake and bake.
Underneath you right now the earth shakes.
Time will tell if I will float or if I'll sank.
I use to meditate with Swisher's filled with Mary Jane.
Temporarily paralyzing the thoughts I think.
Leaving my dreams suspended we in a police state.
They're slowly building a fence around and locking the gate.
A fish in these waters I seen so many take the bait.
We all replaceable babies born to take our place.
Stay confident like Babe when I step up to the plate.
I'm freeing my people from mental slavery everyday.
I know Harriet and Sojourner would be proud of Me
I'm risking my freedom for people that I aint' even met
My mother would like me to join forces and become a vet
But I'm expressing thoughts that have the FEDS coming at your neck.
Like Martin, Malcolm, and Johnny was all put in check,
At times I wonder who is next?
For the three men above all I have is respect. They showed
Courage Peace and Love feelings I can emulate, reflect
cause in the face of Fear you have to learn and adapt.
Expect the unexpected and maintain aware developed minds
avoiding traps and filthy raps slowing down the hands of time
My brain starts to tingle I can feel it calculating rhymes
like news producers silence the truth and
constantly turning up the lies.
Dying is inevitable, Lives flash before our eyes.
Her skins as dark as the universe and her eyes as blue as the sky.
I've been through the lowest of lows that's why I'm constantly getting high
to ease the pain and break the chains I spread my wings to fly
to an eminent death when there's nothing left I love ones start to cry
and the only thing we can do about it is ask the Lord Whyyy?
"Yea, my country tis of thee, Sweet land of **** em all and let em die.
God Bless America"- Lil Wayne
Inspired by Lil Wayne - God Bless America Last line Lil Wayne's
blushing prince Aug 2015
we are the insects trapped inside homemade fly traps
glued on at the roof of the mouth
underbelly, I run around looking for trouble
trailer park princess, bar-fights in every space between my teeth
I'm a child of a child

I beat my paper wings against the shamelessness
Dance like the cigarette breaks are forever
Swisher blunts for the forget-me-not flowers inside backseats of cars, cabs, stolen automobiles
Revenge, locked jaw police officers like the fathers that never let you hold a gun so you become one

Taste blood, tongues, beauty in chaos
loose lips, stolen drugstore mascara and no more bruised knees
Boys like soft but you're the ******* Armageddon, knuckle-ring gods and all
so the men want to be kings and you grow up a feral cat sleeping in twin sized beds with a mouthful of curse words

Lord of the flies, lot lizards and truck-stop races
gritty bathroom graffiti is the cathedral but prayers never stop
Taverns with your name and the angels that spit
The television static never ends here, cicadas  
Doors with mosquitoes held hostage, home for supper
wasted by dessert

Down in the dirt, grimy bathtub I unearth all the things I couldn't drink away; all the motel fantasies, ***-stained skirts and the neon lights waiting for the swarm
Descovia Jul 2021
I don't understand it.
Everybody want to be a savage.
Upscale and overdramatic
90's mentality, I'm still fightin' madness.
So tell me
What you know about classic?
Better think, before you pop off at the mouth
and do anything drastic!

I never changed
I continue to do me
956 to 323
I got power
I am father to many prodigies
I'm going to stay on top
of the game, until they body me.

So you made a couple of hits
So you qualify as a hitter?
Stop calling yourself a killer
if you ain't about it ni**a
Gotta be outside the box
This is why
You cannot frame me
for any picture!
None of you, about the smoke
but be so quick to burn it all
Just like a swisher!
I cannot face time, rather not waste time.
Most of you get loco
When you be on the liquor
My foundation stands by me.
This is not vengenace, this is vigor!
So stop trying to use my lines
You's a stolen-style shifter
You ******* stolen-line-spitter
I'm not saint.
I rather not be a sinner.
I tell my child
You can do
ANYTHING!
Daddy will always rock with ya!
2021, new era, new me, I am done
******* with you pretenders!
Daniel Magner Mar 2013
This holding back stuff,
facade, is getting rough
with my hopes in reach
close enough to touch.
Practically out of this rut for
a life time of not giving up,
if I could only take the last step
but I know for certain
it'd be a bad bet to run a circle
around a friend like a back-stabbing
game of chess
and the check mate would leave
a dark stain on the membrane
of what ever came next.
So I take small dips
instead of full rips
one or two hits
just enough to get me to my next fix,
the whole time her face playing
in my head like movie clips
laughing at jokes or drawing *****
little kid shows, cartoon pics.
Making food and saying, "**** the dishes"
But now I wash them and watch
my ideas swirl down the drain like dead fishes.
Split a swisher, pack, light, lifted.
My mind keeps switching
as I watch her walk back and forth
cooking in the kitchen.
Sooner or later my life will be ruined
by this
decision.
© Daniel Magner 2013
Waverly Feb 2012
She loved rolling L's,
I'd plop down on her bed,
she'd have A$AP or some
OFWGKTA on,
she was a New York girl
in skinny jeans
and camo Jordans
with them gold doorknockers,
a transplant
both from there
and into my life,
she'd run her pink nails
long as needles along
the Swisher,
and I swear
she had to know something
about internal anatomy,
cause she'd do that ****
to my belly button;
how long have you been practicing?
How many bodies have you split open
and left for dead
in the ashtray?
You rolled a tight L,
and I hemourraged
for five minutes,
it became a local anesthetic
until the procedure
was over.

The woman could do more
than just lick the insides clean,
she was humane,
she'd fill it back
with something you could burn.

She could roll L's
to Webster
all day,
not even the big L's
like love, lust, lascivious
more like
loner, longing, and live.
Started with a bowl of blue dreams.
holdin down the smoke with oak heart ***.
feelin like a beach ***.
drunk kickin the sand between my toes.
how many joints ive smoked no one knows.

but im ****** up on this shore
feelin more silly in the dome then pauly shore.
watching the green burn
as the bacardi runs.

good life on my beach.
my swisher is peach
my **** is rich.
my buzz got me feelin like the ****.

**** poetic structure.
im pokin holes in my brain like acupuncture
not quite thrown
my writing is done.
goodnight in gone
Ready treading.
Banking Heaven.
Higher heading onto Seven.

Connections are blending.

Rapture sure to capture all
turns to mending.
Free for all
beach sand meshing.
Flesh is blessing
Love Living.

Respect creatures.

Beings less than or equal.
Keep on giving people
brother sister
love her miss her sweet
swisher on my lips.

Ears open.
HEARD
Meditation
key to worlds of blankness,
tranquility.

Are you feeling?
vf Jan 2015
Eating brownies to feel inspired, then look at the **** I write the next day
stone cold, naked in bed, dining hall food resting neatly in an ordered manner.
I wish he would go down on me the same way he probably thinks about me,
and this isn't high school but I feel like every one knows something I don't. This is hell.
this image is enlarged to show texture, this swisher is full of a mixture,
big yawns and hot skin. I wish I was his. i wish the idea would cross itself off my list.
TYRAN Jan 2016
I think I could do with a hologram.
I think it could help me help who I am.
Feeling for a touch right through my hand.
Hope is lost for me
sinking in the sand.

I think I could do with a hologram.
I think I could do
you
in a smoky place.
Your electronic face
makes my heart switch it's pace.
The green you roll
in swisher rolls
may have been laced.
Maybe my mind's been replaced.

Something tells me you aren't here,
that you aren't real,
that I just needed something to feel.
What is ever real
anymore?
I can never deal
anymore.
Wanted just
a little more.
I combust
till there's no more.
What feels good doesn't always mean good.
Sam Temple Feb 2016
1- Totes inaprope dope smoker swisher toker blunt wrap roper you be like my ole aunt groper
2- She be grabbin ***** on all ya’ll in the Fall by the ball court short shorts and written reports
3- ******* dorks and eatin pork like nanu nanu Mork with a stork baby drop on the porch
4- Carry the torch to the couch jump up ta bounce see a fool to trounce and slap in the head
5- Make him brain dead said I see red in bedrooms full a un-wed mothers slack jaw brothers
6- Druther act like one another than smother muthafuckers with rubber maid garbage cans
7- Hand feeding planned partenthood in the hood acting no good wit mad wood ya shoulda
8- Put those down came round and found a pound for slingin, bringing back the Ringling elephants
9- And cellophane wrapper sandwiches ******* snitching on rich kids for gambling small wagers
10- Drunken rage-ers deranged rangers feeding bears strangers and rearranging body parts
11- Carded farters impart special gasses on mass media fascists  allowing brash
Listen to stories as I spill
Cuz this something that's too **** real
Hard for you to dodge my lyrical collage
So step with me into this reality first
I woke up then I looked up
I see it's a l
Past quarter to nine
And woodys on
At twelve
But forget that verse cuz it was only the spirits in a thirst
Called up a few homies while I'm laying in the bed
Watchin' Wilma and Fred then a thought occured to my head
I told my boys we should go out
Maybe a stripper club or diner
But either way we need to roll out
So I got dressed made sure I was good looking
Check the mirror even it was shooken
Got a make move moving real fast ya see
Cuz I gotta my Posse to G -E -T

My Posse on MLK My Posse on MLK
My Posse On MLK


Now once I pulled up in the ******* truck
Ya know the big Tahoe where I tie hoes? Get it
Naw I'm just clowning thinkin a groove so we can start soundin'
Off to beat our vocals meet
We acting real silly up goes the dilly
They playing throwback of Magoo and Timbaland on the track
Way back up jumps the boogie all in me
Now I'm amped with my Posse
We ready to get it crackin'
And no stoppin' us G
Like Reggie Miller on three top of key
Where we all love to meet
We check each other make sure we fresh
Cuz the girlies love to test the way we dress
So we now in the street bass bumpin' with the beat
Gotta admit I had to roll up a swisher sweet
Nothing to see here haters cuz we gettin ready to raid ya


My Posse on MLK My Posse on MLK
My Posse On MLK


As we make into the club I'm feeling real good
But I hate that songs scrubs
Girls stop fronting djs cutting
Got everybody in the club jumpin'
Mens is grinding on girls behinds and
And there me and posse in long line and
Next thing ya know they move us to the front row
VIP status man I'm feeling the baddest
Once we got on set
I told the dj to change the rec so I can show em
How cold me and posse gets
Once I touch the mic their  was a long silence
Microphone screeching
But stop once the rhymes started preaching
Everybody nodding having a good time
Out comes the rhymes break em every time
Throwin' hards thrills so ya better chills
Or else my Posse going to rearrange ya grill
Now that ya in a trance with my music
That's makes ya dance
And all this time they had nothing to say
Cuz my Posse to Ill from MLK
Timmy Johnston Jul 2013
It’s the sound of old, pop-punk blaring through my car speakers at two in the morning.
It’s the way my breath becomes visible late at night.
It’s the sound of our shoes on the woodchips in the park.
It’s the smell of grape Swisher Sweets in our hair and the taste of ****** tobacco on our tongues.
It’s the oversized hoodies.
It’s the neon beanies.
It’s the energy drinks.
It’s the last minute bonfires.
It’s the deep talks on the swings.
It’s the way your hand felt in mine.
It’s the way you felt in my arms.
It’s the sound of our laughter, dripping with the inevitability of the future.
It’s the feeling of growing up.
It’s the feeling of not wanting to grow up.
It’s the changing leaves.
It’s the morning frost.
It’s the end of summer.
It’s the start of tomorrow.
It’s over.

-trj
smallhands May 2014
mad talk echoing round my ears
is giving me the bends, baby
courage melts in my pockets
hello my name is buttercup
mouthwash swisher and a real
bad washer disher

-c.j.
Muyi Mar 2017
Burn yo castle 2 the ground
When u hear my ****** coming don't u make a sound
Snitches get stitches but these suckers get fouled
Ah wow
Get down
If u don't
Lay down
Plenty cake

If u try 2 go 2 war then we don't conversate

****** been ****** ******* while y'all *******

Break a swisher
Make her lick it
Blow it in yo face

Smoking haters out the box

Summertime come around
****** acting wild

Cpd hit the block
Sneakers shake the ground

Winter time
Icy roads painted wit the blood

****** wit my Lil ******
Meet up wit my snub

Meet up wit my snub
Naw meet up wit yo maker

Jesus
Allah
Buddha Satan
Hera hermes shiva me?
*******
Getting
On they
Knees
1+2
But they ain't praying tho

U ain't even gotta mic so what u speaking 4

U ain't even gotta high so what u fiendin 4

U ain't even gotta lie
Who u sleeping on?

If he ain't getting money don't speak 4 me

If he getting out his body he can't blow 4 free

If a ***** get loud makeem rest in peace

Deuce deuce at yo chest like double Ds

I squeeze them thangs 2 make them squirt
If a ***** acting childish get his just desserts
No Häagen-Dazs *****
We don't **** wit lames
Pockets got diabetes cuz we stuffing cake

N that's on me
Remember when the boys n blue tried 2 cuff a g
Remember times got hard
We was hungry
N now the fam eating good no gluttony
So go 2 sleep

Lil ***** go 2 sleep

That's what my cousin use 2 always tell me
Cuz when id wake dollar bills is what id c

On me now we living outta dream

Yea now we living outta dream

Yea now we living outta dream n errthing ain't always what it seem
So don't sleep mf don't sleep
1st time I saw crack was at 7 in my mama kitchen......family business
Colin Carpenter May 2013
Follow this poem as it escapes my lips, smoke from a swisher.  Follow before it disappears, slithers away into thin silky threads.  Follow the mass, the transparent cloud.  It’ll take you somewhere far from here, far from what you deemed necessary long ago, the pointless **** that drives your wandering mind, the pit opening up again within and underneath and above you, crushing you, making you less of what you are, less of your baser self.  Follow this poem as it coincides with the wings of bats beating above your shallow head.  Follow their darkness as they hide in barn nooks.  Let them graze the tips of your dried draught grass hair, carry you away, and dissipate with the smoke.
Arcassin B Apr 2019
By Arcassin Burnham


Won't you take it off baby,
Don't you rush baby,
Match each others auras,
Come combine with me baby,
Won't you take it off baby,
Vibe with me baby,
reach inside each other,
While our hearts are still beating,
take it off baby,
Won't you take it off baby,
I don't want to degrade ya,
Wanna call you my lady,
Let's go somewhere private.

Girl we've been planning for weeks,
I been with you almost a year,
You're blowing my mind everytime you
reply,
But I'm cutting off all of my peers,
Love when you display your kisses,
Carrying yourself like Hungarians,
Glad to be calling my misses while talking to you,
Misses by your hungry man,
Hungry for your love and touch,
You know I can't really get enough,
The sweetest of sweets like a swisher, your
chaining my heart with gold diamond cuffs,
When Heaven created love,
Baby they had you in mind,
I want every fiber of your being in this world , I'm glad to say your mine,

Won't you take it off baby,
Don't you rush baby,
Match each others auras,
Come combine with me baby,
Won't you take it off baby,
Vibe with me baby,
reach inside each other,
While our hearts are still beating,
take it off baby,
Won't you take it off baby,
I don't want to degrade ya,
Wanna call you my lady,
Let's go somewhere private.



Nothing much,
Nothing really ever going on,
Just the same old **** same old in a land filled with dust,
But not by much,
A typical day at the office , in the backyard with a cigar filled tree herbs,
And a drink or two sitting shirtless in all its hopeless glory,
Young black boy with a dream that he Invisioned as a child,
If theres dirt in the country , no church in the wild,
I sit and put on these fake smiles,
And they say how have you been in a while and I say nothing much,
And I say nothing much.
©abpoetry2019

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/p/indie-part-e.html
Travis Green Feb 2022
I wanna be where you are
Feel my heart interlock with yours
Feel your solid, sinuous hands
Moving everywhere on my body
Exhilarate me when you take me
Into your unsurpassable, magical paradise

Let me take in your spendiferousness
Cherish you like Swisher Sweets Honey Leaf
Like a grand, extravagant, and blossoming rose garden
I pine to feel your divine and lithe limbs rock with mine
Let’s dance and kiss romantically
In the sweetest and wealthiest lands of paradise

I yearn to submerge in your immersive free verse poetry
Taste the stellar passionate words flow down my throat
As I become supersaturated with blissful
And bright sensations, strongly pleasurable moments
Where your love illuminates my mind and body
Emily Jones Feb 2014
It's been quiet
The faucet dripping the echoing stillness
Of adverse mindset
Consumed by the withering sleeplessness that ails the student dragging dead feet strung out on dead wisdom
That is no longer implemented, applicable and moreover looked at as a crutch for those whom social status is less than hip
The area of mind confiscated by academics swells
Thudding the pulse drum rhythm of obsessive regurgitation
Were Kant spews forth followed by hinduistic dharma
Up chucking language theory
So is my disease so is my study

Where upon waking all I dream is to sleep
To get some **** rest away from all of the conflict messing processed dogma
But addictions have a way with coming back
And I'm all to experienced
A longtime loner
Swisher of ailments in the whiskey tumbler of existence
Fermenting on the brewing affliction that is life

— The End —