It's not good..
I'm cotching here cross-legged on my bed,
listening to T-pain and Christ Brown..
Why, i do not know..
Climbing onto my solid slab of matress,
i clocked my cellie.
He's lying on his back,
wearing nothing but his boxer shorts,
one hand down fondling his balls..
The song finishes, he stops singing,
an tells that he once sang this tune to his wife,
in front of his whole family..
"Timdog, my n****r, trust me, this is one o' them
'Shit she found out i was chating' joints!"
I just made some munch.
cup of tea an about a thousand crackers
slobbered with peanut butter.
It ain't much, but it'll do..
A hot cup of tea probably wasn't the
wisest of beverages to whip up at almost
But as i am a feeble minded individual,
posessing very limited intelligence at the best of times,
i'm happy as a pig in shit,
sitting here doodling away in a pair of sweaty shorts,
listening to this..
This guy's bars are beyond incredible.
Boasting about how 'when he gets caughts'
by the FEDS,
"WE GON' GET THA BIGGEST CHARGE!"
I'm sitting in a Federal prison, facing Federal charges,
hearing 'Wacka Flocka Flame' dribble pathetically whack
bars about how the FEDS are after him,
and that this predicament is worthy of boasting about..