Call myself ascetic, aye
Your bars mad pathetic, aye
You gon need a medic,aye
You gon talk if I let it,
Your career be sold on reddit,
Gon be celebrating like esketit.
Fuck it I'll go since I said it.
My real name is Antonio,
Do you Need a portfolio?
now Sleepless in Tokyo,
You ain't shit you phony yo.
Used to help you with problems on the Telefonó,
Now you get to see me and my hatred on the front row,
I don't care if you're sorry,
Go ahead tell me your story,
Our friendship is more like dead and morbid,
If I pictured us in the room it would be blood and gory.
You deadass fucked me over for some other boring,
He looks like his breaths sound like he's snoring.
I don't do weed, not in my need, I jut like to sleep, and eat, maybe occasionally have a camstar I meet.
I don't need a baddie,
I just need a girl call me daddy,
I don't feel to shabby,
I might go stabby
Think twice before you laugh at me, aye
Keep coming back every week or so,
Acting like you like me n you not a hoe,
Wait hold up there's more, stay see what's in store, with your body I'll wipe the floor, from the other hoe's blood n gore.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
