I'm sitting in the crib dreaming about fried chicken and Ciroc/Real hip-hop/And why they keep F'n with Barack/Stop/I'm interrupting by an e-mail/8:56/Who the hell Is this/In my inbox talking ish/About how I hate women/Probably don't even date women/Listen…
Word on the street is that I've gone soft, but like Waka Flocka, I go hard in the mutha, mutha paint when I want to. Take a look at the tagline; this is social commentary from a real Nigga's point of view, meaning I'm gonna tell it like it T-I-is (old folks say it, so it sounds right!). I don't care if I offend you or make you feel uncomfortable while reading. Actually, I'm here to offend and cause discomfort, because to me those are akin to the wheels of thought starting in motion.
There's a good chance that if you were offended but what I wrote earlier, you are one of the newly bourgeoisie, trying to validate yourself by digging deep to purchase expensive bags to hide your shallow ass within. Most women I know laughed and just dismissed me as being crazy, the few responses I got on the contrary are probably from women who could see a little more of themselves than they expected this morning and didn't like that glimpse in the mirror.
Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn if you don't like it or can't stand me, I love it and there's plenty more where that came from. For the record…I love women, but I give a pass to no one. If you read deep enough, I say some things. I could've explored the societal impact of "success" in some dry ass dissertation, but I chose to make light of a situation and I guess it twisted a thong or two, oh well! Say what you like, just spell my name right, that's A-l-hyphen, Capital L-a-t-e-e-f.
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