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SpacemanTheJinn

With the Cheshire Grin

Month

February 2017

YOU KNOW HER (BY NOW)

Known as forever trouble

Rage and snarl on double

She no bobble, stay poppin bubbles

Glad, pistols, blades, and shovels

Runnin the routes, make niggas lives fumble

Suppressor subtle

No hostile rebuttal

Matchmaker for casket cuddles

Cutting up some pounds, just to prep up all the bricks

Cash keep a rubberband grip

Got hookers and women in the strip

Got these niggas on the flips

Got the addicts doin tricks

Got the pigs playin snitch

You won’t ever catch the bitch

You got dreams, ambitions of Jimmy Choos

She got dreams, ambitions of your pockets, too

An artist with all the tools

Dropping all the fools and all the crews

Who make a poor choose

Make families sing the blues

Make the red run from redrum

Never see her come

Steal the breath from ya lungs

Should’ve wished her daddy had a son

HER VENGEANCE

‪She was willing for that night‬

‪She was eager for the fight‬

‪They killed her fam and homies, she wasn’t accepting to their blight‬

‪So, she ain’t give in to fright‬

‪She wasn’t ready to die‬

‪She wouldn’t tell that lie‬

‪But, these fuckers had to fry‬

‪Fuck justice, revenge was the why‬

‪Couldn’t buy a pistol, so she loaded up on blades‬

‪Fueled by the rage‬

‪And heartbroken days‬

‪Mommy, Daddy, brothers, sisters gone‬

‪Friends took bullets to the body and the dome‬

‪Surrounded by ghosts, so she still feel alone‬

‪Wiping her tears, as she’s on her way to foes‬

‪She creeped in under Death’s shadow‬

‪For thirty minutes, wasn’t even a battle‬

‪Slittin many necks‬

‪Followed wit a stab to the chest‬

‪…‬

‪”To Be Continued” for the rest‬

THE WAY SHE MOVE

She hails from a block of damners

No sweatin pullin the hammer

Watch ya grammar

Known as the 83rd Jammer

Walkin the talk, no stammer

Inner-city local soldier

Slamming like a boulder

Standin 90degrees, she bolder

Expressions showing she colder

Head on a swivel on the shoulder

Dropping bodies, casings, cases ever lower

Well-versed in knowledge of floaters

From the clowns to the cops to gods, they all know her

They all fear her

They never hear her

They never see her

They get the picture, it’s ever clearer

Witches don’t know a worse curse

She’ll target a procession, no love for a hearse

Living, either

She’s living ether

Chaos breeder

Anger seether

A madness breather

Eye of the storm

Actin calmer than a warn

Decisions are never torn

Weakness for her is foreign

She never talks bout her business

She just lets the victims witness

Her methods are so exquisite

Her record is higher digits

Without a twitch, without a fidget

With a purpose, with a mission

Burning souls and the Michelins

No bullshit, so antihistamine

Just adding to unsolved mysteries

Crises to family trees

Tragedies to histories

Her all is a calculated function

More than a metaphored something

WITHIN THE JINN

So full of ferocious roaches

Creepy, crawling, alphabet bloated

Think of a notion deeper than oceans, the Space wrote it

Man embracing madness

Pillow-killing sadness

Almost dangerous? The baddest

Surfing on top of sickness

Reading these words to mythics

Dragons and gods are tenants listed

Deeply seasoned with dreamings

Many meanings demeaning

Sneezing and they be sleeping

Lost inside a space

Without a pace

With all the grace of a great

The writer, the witness, written

Self-inflicted smitten

Exploding from within, the talent’s fitting

Casting off humanity

For something better than sanity

Meds and liquors and blah blah “can you see?”‘s

Mixing and high off ideas

Just tweaking and loving my dears

Written is backlogged, heavy in arrears

Thoughts get thought and lost

The cost of the proc’

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