Your swag will fade out, it will soon die.
What's the point of having it?
It won't forever fly.
Pants hanging low, lower than hell.
You might as well pull them up.
You'll get pantsed and they'll fell.
Guys wearing snapchats.
Tattoos on their chest.
We're not interested, we'll forget about the rest.
You can't sing, rap, or sag.
So don't swear and brag.
I don't care how many papers you have.
You may think that your all cool.
But your really not all that.
You just really look like a fool.
Your not hard.
You can't hit.
So just don't throw a fit.
Your swag will turn gray.
Which means it will die.
Old poem I wrote 2 years ago.
YOU ARE READING
Dying Swag (Poem)
PoetryI wrote this poem back in 2012, so I decided to post it on here. I wrote this poem, because everyday at school, i see people with their pants sagging, holding their crotch, say the word *nigga * constantly, and brag how much weed and money they have...
