Gimmick and Mimic Men

What’s your gimmick?

How you spit it?

How you flip it?

What’s your angle?

You’re Mr. B0-Jangles?

Or do you hand out mangled, threats?

warning your foes about strangled, necks?

Face contorted and twisted toting, tecks

What else? What’s next?

What you wear on your vest?

Superman, Hulk-types biggin up your chest

or maybe you’re not Bruce

You Duece, braggin, you loose

Not pumping up your chest

But humping up some mess

you say fuck a caress!

ma lif up ya dress!

Leave your complaints bout stress…at the door

let’s not fool ourselves, I’m a pimp, youza whore

Anything else, is there anything more?

Oh yeah, youza keep it real cat

born 89, yet steady with the boom bap

wrist bands and nap sacks

ones, twos, and vinyl racks

making the past last

your gold, is their trash

spinning on your head

break dancing till you’re dead

1990 windmill, spin go head, flare if you dare

Battle on wax tracks, and on cardboard mats

graffiti on the side or everything stating random facts

spraying yourself and laying your tag

cops come and you’ve got paint-stained hands

woop! woop! that’s the sound, pull up your pants

here comes the mans

aww damn you caught…cops harrassin’

fuck you! you fart! you steady blastin’

cuz you see it as art

It ain’t no scandal, I ain’t no vandal!

You’re a college student, slacks securely on your waist

shirt tucked in, black, but passing for white in the place

and you acting, trying to fit in, forgetting your face

steel bars enclose you, you wasn’t face enough

Allah enrolls you, you’re a diamond in the rough


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