My Crib

A Poem by Mario Vitale

A good look inside

F**k you...
One two on the mic let's start this flow
in my crib there lies a vast domain
some give props to the criminally insane
 
sugar is sweet as sweet as honey
like to hear that chime of the sound of the money
ain't nothing funny...
Guns will kill some shoot to thrill
 
Out in the streets we call it the hood
peeps are up to know good
wine is fine but whiskey's quicker
suicide is filled with liquor
 
take a bottle to drawn your sorrows
Never going to be another day tomorrow
instead let's choose to look about to the heavenly love
why does this word get swept under the rug
 
you got freaks with suits crying don't pollute
rhymes on top cause you can't see the bottom
Gone are the old days of Sodom
we bow to a lesser god in no position
 
When you face the facts you'd be wishing
playing second fiddle with the pots in the kitchen
can't even think to dismiss this earthly bliss
with a time well spent in thought
 
there's still a dozen of pots in your sink
F**k you again bruh my friend
Us in the hood are going to get it in the end
beats to the rhyme so the rhyme goes to the prison
 
Something you been looking for homeboy that I'm dishin
Save ya money for ya momma next time vote for Homeboy Obama
you liar...you liar...blood filled desire
blowing up the charts like Shug Knight ran the scene
 
living in a land to is so very mean
people scream still blown in desire
like Hendrix sang, Let me stand next to your fire
Let me take you hire