That's All, Folks... We Out!

LET us go then, you and me,
I’m your man, you’re my shorty
Like a patient after getting hit with a few shells;
Let us go, put the Benz on dubs,
Hit the club
Feeling focused, with my money on my mind
T.S. got a mill and he’s still on the grind:
When your poems sell like Ezra Pound
Bitches want to get down.
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
It’s just Dre and Xzibit.


In the room the women come and go
I think I wanna fuck a ho.