Tru Gangsta

A Poem by casablancavic

Ghetto slang put to the test. Using as much ghetto slang as I could, trying to make a somewhat coherant rap song. yeah, it will probably make no sense - but then again - neither does ghetto slang.

Tru gangsta through and through. Capone and Gotti. Gotta team them respect, show em that I'm naughty.

Sun rises. Just another day. Just like LeBron, gonna make em pay. Straight dope to the nines. Hangin tough, striking pose - reflects true image. Hangin with my homies down in my crib. Fool be tossin dollas, thinking he be pimpin. Callin him out from slippin. Ain't nobody gonna slip a Mickey on the fin.

Bugatti, Porsche, Ferrari, sippin Perignon, True Religion.

He's whip on the flow and poppin beefs like a Bruno. Nobody gonna bump J in a big sleep - cause he's dough on scratch. Game just like a puzzle, but there's always a catch. Can't level down - being zanged - gonna flow down the pipe.

Crystals shimmer on the table like the stars in the sky.

Those b's just gonna back off, cause they know that Daddy is makin the rules now. Matinee superstars - mad math, let me show you how. Cherries on the block, walkin a beat - clowns be runnin scared, afraid of the heat. G's be flippin cause I made the break - James Brown style while pimpin Elvis, first rate. Butter smooth, velvet cream with champagne on ice in crystal. Cheddar tasty chips, wearing chucks, swinging chrome.

Haters keep dissin hate - cause the Big Mac has the cheese and that special secret sauce, nobody can repilcate.

Taste, taste, taste the flava of the spice...flava of the spice..hotter than Miami Beach and twice as nice.

Clown walkers, freestyle clock, clock clockin, killin time with a crab. They be thinkin they all Gucci, but they just drab, What's crackin? What's crackin? Homies crackalackalackin. Walkin down from Brooklyn, swaying like a crooklyn, swinging like a monkey in a tree. Dancing like Astair, happy as can be. Down to the crib, pop - open up the bag, counting presidents. Xj Jag.

Cuttin the rug, shining the duece, listening to the deep. She be lookin fine, wants to do the freak.

Landlord charging rent. Inflation increases. Tell me - what's the dilly? Then it's time to dip. Pack up the dimes, call up the digits. Time to flip. Kings don't bow down. Dogs howl in the alleys. Domes are going down. I ain't no McDonald's clown. Don walkin - do or die - Bedstuy. Hit Wall Street, broadway lights. Stock market might fall, but not tonight.

DL on the low down...Johnny Law still creepin in the corner. But Matlock is on call. Be easy, be smooth, be nice...slippery like oil but chill as Frosty the snowman on ice. New Jack, blackjack, royal to the flush. Top of the game, ain't gonna bust. Slingin', stackin chips like Frito-Lay. 8 days a week - 24 a day. Gettin faded on the razor - just a light to the skies. Got no time for fackin jacks. Gotta say "bye-bye".

Cracker jack, cracker jacks - Lucky Charms got new flavas. Rice Krispie treats gonna save ya. Snap, crackle pop. Taste so fine. Tell the doctor to hit me up one more time. Fiending on the lick, flex and fly. Sippin on a forty - freestyle. You can slam my rep, but I got solid game, yo. Call it what you want, but it's all the same.

Cross on my turf, then it's time to run. Better put on your Pumas' - cause it's not gonna be fun. Everybody saying that it's tasting fresh - cause it's fire to the tongue. Super death.

Sugar smacks, honey covered breakfast treat. Trump don't need to front - drummers know the beat. Rules are for suckas, but G's playing game. Their mortgage rates go up, but they still have to pay. Make bank on every corner, each and every day. Owning like I'm Apple, living like I'm Gates. Get busy, get loose, get down with the goose. Gonna fly away - to the crib in the sky.

Ghetto bird in the blue, they be comin after you. You can't catch a ghost. Grinding dirty, diggin deep.

Go out like a wolf, but lookin like a sheep.

Getting gritty, hardcore in the gully. Hoes be whack, counting white picket fences, rides, rings and stacks. Eyes like a hawk, lookin for some food. Gonna catch a fish, hard rock in the hood. Straight up courage, gonna holla out the truth. Solid - cause it's good. Home boys reppin - hood rats trappin, word on the strip is that "I ain't the one" Strappin hard, no half steppin. I got the 411. Ice covered fingers, Benz on the lot. Iron horse don't play me ill. King of the hill.

Juice is sweet, high heeled vixens krumpin. Silk curtains, pay the bouncer to taste the champagne. Hundred dolla treats. Gonna krunk hard, till the DJ drops the mic. Call it a night. Gettin lifted, don't need an elevator to ride to the penthouse suite. He be newjack, over and done. Crews be slayin and macks be playin. Old school playas, won't be visitng punk city anytime later. Ox to the heart. No room for playa haters.

Scrubs be jealous, sawed off in the trunk. Eyes always shifty - cause they want my junk.

Sippin Grey Goose, inhaling caviar. Shorty made a trade, dollas on the grill. Pinks in my fingers, hundred dolla bills.

Dimed up and dapper, But they just playing roles. 38 for the kill. Skeezers sliding by, lights down low, everything is straight. See the twinkle in their eyes. Zooted to the skies. Toy cops playin like they cowboys, jumpin of their ponys - but slippin in the mud. Acting like John Wayne, but chokin on my dust. Clock G's, droppin pennies in the sand. Rolex on my hand. Skyscraper to the skies, Fabio couch, shag rug to catch the flies. Patten leather shoes, blazer and a cane. Diamonds in my fist. Makin waves. Dogs be barking jealous, gold on my wrist. Livin everybody eles's dream. Word to the wise. Sun goes down..sun's gonna rise.