Saturday, August 25, 2012
DON'T LET FOLKS WALK AWAY
DON'T LET FOLKS WALK AWAY FROM YOU INDIFFERENT... GIVE 'EM SOMETHIN' TO FEEL... LOVE, HATE, BUT NEVER INDIFFERENCE.
WHENEVER YOU GET THE FEELIN'
WHENEVER YOU GET THE FEELIN' THAT YOU'VE BEEN SOMEWHERE BEFORE...YOU'RE PRO'LY GOIN' AROUND IN CIRCLES.
WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IN GOD OR NOT
WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IN GOD OR NOT, SOME DAY WHEN YOUR ASS IS DOWN AND OUT, YOU'LL LOOK UP TO THE HEAVENS, SEARCHIN' AND POSSIBLY BEGGIN' FOR A SIGN.
THE BEAT DOWN
21 JuneTuesday
12:10
I looked at the time on my phone again as my piss 'o meter gradually edged towards highly pissed. I mean, I wasn't supposed to stay more than five minutes at the bus terminals but the dude I was waitin’ on, had had my ass there for a lil over ten minutes ...and countin’.
Jus’ as I was thinkin’ of ringin’ his ass up again, he called, beggin’ me to be patient and that he’d come through in the next twenty minutes. I know some time I get ticked off quite easily, so I took a deep cleasin’ breath (oh hell, how cleansin’ can the air at a bus station wit close a thousand souls millin’ around be). I try to pass the time by listenin’ to the lil’ recordings of songs I’d be composin’ (my songs... all unfinished). It’s one of my lil’ distractions, kinda connects me wit’ myself... anyways, if there’s any A&R man readin’ this, am the man you need to discover. Lol!
12:18
Face glued to my writin’ pad, head bobbin’ to the sound of my recordings. Call it narcissistic or whatever you want but there’s somethin’ vain-gloriously calmin’ about listenin’ to the sound of your own voice playin’ back to you... that is freakin’ cathartic! Come to think of it, a playback of your ass doin’ somethin’ you wouldn’t want to see the light of day might jus get your blood pressures up especially if your name is Prince Harry and you’re third in line to the British throne.
I was lost in the groove until some peddler came and stood across my table; I didn't even bother lookin’ at him or what he was tryin’ to sell. I already know how these hustlers operate. They invite themselves into your presence and try to tempt you like the serpent did Eve in the garden a while back. They stand in front of you long enough to get you to give more than a passing look at what they got. Well, I got my own tactic too, I jus' ignore ‘em til they get the message and move the hell on and that was exactly what I did.
About fifty seconds later, the hustler was still standin’ there like some sort of stature; the punk ass jus won’t go away like the proverbial coin. I looked up to see what the homeboy was sellin’ and right there in both his hands were a polythene bag full of lipsticks! For the time it took for my face to travel from the bags in hands to his face, my look switched from your pleasant average Joe smile to that no nonsense Danny Trejo look and the motherfucker promptly got the message. He got out of my sight like a house on fire. I mean, what the fuck, do I look like a lipstick wearin’ nigga? Nigga musta been slightly inebriated to wanna sell me shit like that.
12:23
As I watched the lipstick man go, I noticed somethin’ that got me thinkin’ about what upsets a man’s sanity scale. I've never been certifiably mad but I know there’s always an event that shifts a man’s balance and tips his ass into insanity, right? Y’all ever notice how mad people are always are on about a particular thing? So there I was lookin’ at an old mad man in a torn hat and an ill-fittin’ ragged suit who kept goin’ from folks to folks (I counted eight) askin’ them for what the time was.
That shit got me wonderin’ that may be the man’s obsession wit time’s got some’ to do wit why he went mad! For a few nanoseconds I thought what if the lipstick man was to go mad, would he be goin’ around obsessin’ after lipsticks? Yeah, me and my evil hyperactive mind, right?
12:26
As the old mad hatter moved away from the couple sittin’ on the bench with two other chicks (they had their backs to me), I saw somethin’ that got me sittin’ straight in my chair. The couple were fightin’ or to put it more succinctly, the man was head-buttin’ and slappin’ the woman. It felt unreal and that disturbin’ image wouldn’t let me sit. I stood up and move close to get a good look at the situation. As I got closer, my blood started boilin’, veins were poppin’ up on my arms (that happens when am mad, stressed or excited), I was ready to dumb-slap the motherfucker from the back but he was saved by a call that came through on his phone. He stood and moved away about twenty steps to answer the call. Nigga wasn’t aware of how close he came to a king size bitch slap.
I stood there waitin’ and watchin’ as he talked and laughed on the phone as if it was jus' another day in paradise. Meanwhile, the chick was sittin’ there cryin’. I could tell she was cryin’ from the way her head drooped and how she dabbed the eyes with her wrapper (a wrap-around cloth).
The motherfucker in the red shirt came back like nothin’ was wrong and started whisperin’ in the woman’s ear, I stood there a lil confused like how could this nigga go from the devil in the red dress to a sweet-nothin’-whisperin’ angel in a few minutes? I shrugged and told myself “good thing I wasn't too hasty at dishin’ out that king-size slap at all”.
I went back to my seat but hardly have I sat down than the fool started head-buttin’ the woman again. I grabbed my bag and made for the guy but before I got there, nigga grabbed the lady and began makin’ their way into the right wing of the terminal. As I turned to follow them, three other guys came up to me and said they too have been watchin’ what was goin’ on. As if we’ve rehearsed the move, we marched after the couple, unbeknownst to them…unbeknownst, did y’all catch that? Damn! Who’d have thought a nigga like me would use such an archaic word. Lol!
A step behind the wife batterin’ fool, I finally got the chance to unload a nasty slap on the motherfucker. No word or explanation was needed. As he turned to find out what he hit him, I welcomed his face wit another wrath of god-like smack, bam! Nigga staggered backward, tryna get his balance. The other three guys generously donated a couple more slaps to the wife batterer’s face. The fool tried to explain that chick was his wife but we weren’t tryin’ to hear none of it. Pussy ass nigga started cryin’ to the wife, “Have you seen what you have done now.” I mean, can you believe it, he was blamin’ the wife!
For even hintin’ that the wife was responsible the beat down he was gettin’, I smacked him on the face some more and told the wife, “You better get yourself some help before this man kills you.”
Outro
I know some ladies can really over do shit sometime but whatever happens, no lady should have to endure shit like what that lady took. I mean, it wasn’t enough that the poor chick had to take beatings at the crib, the stupid husband didn’t give a fuck if they were in public, he whooped the wife’s ass wherever!
The irony of the whole thing was, the wife begged for us to spare the schmuck. Some folks came and begged for the fool too. They pro’ly thought we were goin’ to send him to his maker if they let the jungle justice carry on. Anyways, we reluctantly left them (the couples) but guess what I found out later? The man took the wife to a secluded spot and took off where I he left off. Unfortunately for him, one of the guys that was wit us saw what happened and took the fool to the police and they promptly locked his ass up. Another sad irony to the whole episode was that the wife was pro’ly the one who had to post bail for the fool.
12:40
I forgot to mention that I ran into the guy I was waitin’ for at the wife beater’s beat-down.
THE BEAT DOWN
21
June
Tuesday
12:10
I
looked at the time on my phone again as my piss ‘o meter gradually edged towards highly pissed. I mean, i wasn’t supposed to stay
more than five minutes at the bus terminals but the dude I was
waitin’ on, had had my ass there for a lil over ten minutes ...and
countin’.
Jus’
as I was thinkin’ of ringin’ his ass up again, he called, beggin’
me to be patient and that he’d come through in the next twenty
minutes. I know some time I get ticked off quite easily, so I took a
deep cleasin’ breath (oh hell, how cleansin’ can the air at a bus
station wit close a thousand souls millin’ around be). I try to
pass the time by listenin’ to the lil’ recordings of songs I’d
be composin’ (my songs…all unfinished). It’s one of my lil’
distractions, kinda connects me wit’ myself...anyways, if there’s
any A&R man readin’ this, am the man you need to discover. Lol!
12:18
Face
glued to my writin’ pad, head bobbin’ to the sound of my
recordings. Call it narcissistic or whatever you want but there’s
somethin’ vain-gloriously calmin’ about listenin’ to the sound
of your own voice playin’ back to you…that is freakin’
cathartic! Come to think of it, a playback of your ass doin’
somethin’ you wouldn’t want to see the light of day might jus get
your blood pressures up especially if your name is Prince Harry and
you’re third in line to the British throne.
I
was lost in the groove until some peddler came and stood across my
table; I didn’t even bother lookin’ at him or what he was tryin’
to sell. I already know how these hustlers operate. They invite
themselves into your presence and try to tempt you like the serpent
did Eve in the garden a while back. They stand in front of you long
enough to get you to give more than a passing look at what they got.
Well, I got my own tactic too, I jus ignore ‘em til they get the
message and move the hell on and that was exactly what I did.
About
fifty seconds later, the hustler was still standin’ there like some
sort of stature; the punk ass jus won’t go away like the proverbial
coin. I looked up to see what the homeboy was sellin’ and right
there in both his hands were a polythene bag full of lipsticks! For
the time it took for my face to travel from the bags in hands to his
face, my look switched from your pleasant average Joe smile to that
no nonsense Danny Trejo look and the motherfucker promptly got the
message. He got out of my sight like a house on fire. I mean, what
the fuck, do I look like a lipstick wearin’ nigga? Nigga musta been
slightly inebriated to wanna sell me shit like that.
12:23
As
I watched the lipstick man go, I noticed somethin’ that got me
thinkin’ about what upsets a man’s sanity scale. I’ve never
been certifiably mad but I know there’s always an event that shifts
a man’s balance and tips his ass into insanity, right? Y’all ever
notice how mad people are always are on about a particular thing? So
there I was lookin’ at an old mad man in a torn hat and an
ill-fittin’ ragged suit who kept goin’ from folks to folks (I
counted eight) askin’ them for what the time was.
That
shit got me wonderin’ that may be the man’s obsession wit time’s
got some’ to do wit why he went mad! For a few nano seconds I
thought what if the lipstick man was to go mad, would he be goin’
around obsessin’ after lipsticks? Yeah, me and my evil hyperactive
mind, right?
12:26
As
the old mad hatter moved away from the couple sittin’ on the bench
with two other chicks (they had their backs to me), I saw somethin’
that got me sittin’ straight in my chair. The couple were fightin’
or to put it more succinctly, the man was head-buttin’ and slappin’
the woman. It felt unreal and that disturbin’ image wouldn’t let
me sit. I stood up and move close to get a good at the situation. As
I got closer, my blood started boilin’, veils were poppin’ up on
my arms (that happens when am mad, stressed or excited), I was ready
to dumb-slap the motherfucker from the back but he was saved by a
call that came through on his phone. He stood and moved away about
twenty steps to answer the call. Nigga wasn’t aware of how close he
came to a king size bitch slap.
I
stood there waitin’ and watchin’ as he talked and laughed on the
phone as if it was jus another day in paradise. Meanwhile, the chick
was sittin’ there cryin’. I could tell she was cryin’ from the
way her head drooped and how she dabbed the eyes with her wrapper (a
wrap-around cloth).
The
motherfucker in the red shirt came back like nothin’ was wrong and
started whisperin’ in the woman’s ear, I stood there a lil
confused like how could this nigga go from the devil in the red dress
to a sweet-nothin’-whisperin’ angel in a few minutes? I shrugged
and told myself “good thing I wasn’t too hasty at dishin’ out
that king-size slap at all”
I
went back to my seat but hardly have I sat down than the fool started
head-buttin’ the woman again. I grabbed my bag and made for the guy
but before I got there, nigga grabbed the lady and began makin’
their way into the right wing of the terminal. As I turned to follow
them, three other guys came up to me and said they too have been
watchin’ what was goin’ on. As if we’ve rehearsed the move, we
marched after the couple, unbeknownst to them…unbeknownst, did
y’all catch that? Damn! Who’d have thought a nigga like me would
use such an archaic word. Lol!
A
step behind the wife batterin’ fool, I finally got the chance to
unload a nasty slap on the motherfucker. No word or explanation was
needed. As he turned to find out what he hit him, I welcomed his face
wit another wrath of god-like smack, bam! Nigga staggered backward,
tryna get his balance. The other three guys generously donated a
couple more slaps to the wife batterer’s face. The fool tried to
explain that chick was his wife but we weren’t tryin’ to hear
none of it. Pussy ass nigga started cryin’ to the wife, “Have you
seen what you have done now.” I mean, can you believe it, he was
blamin’ the wife!
For
even hintin’ that the wife was responsible the beat down he was
gettin’, I smacked him on the face some more and told the wife,
“You better get yourself some help before this man kills you.”
Outro
I
know some ladies can really over do shit sometime but whatever
happens, no lady should have to endure shit like what that lady took.
I mean, it wasn’t enough that the poor chick had to take beatings
at the crib, the stupid husband didn’t give a fuck if they were in
public, he whooped the wife’s ass wherever!
The irony of the whole thing was, the wife begged for us
to spare the schmuck. Some folks came and begged for the fool too.
They pro’ly thought we were goin’ to send him to his maker if
they let the jungle justice carry on. Anyways, we reluctantly left
them (the couples) but guess what I found out later? The man took the
wife to a secluded spot and took off where I he left off.
Unfortunately for him, one of the guys that was wit us saw what
happened and took the fool to the police and they promptly locked his
ass up. Another sad irony to the whole episode was that the wife was
pro’ly the one who had to post bail for the fool.
12:40
I
forgot to mention that I ran into the guy I was waitin’ for at the
wife beater’s beat-down.
Friday, August 17, 2012
BURN NOTE AFTER READIN'
Friday13 July
16:28
I saw her way before she and her tall self brought themselves through the door and somehow I knew she was goin’ to come to my counter for some help (there were five counters there, by the way). Once in the door, she went to the security lady standin’ by the display glass to inquire bout some’ as I turned my attention to gatherin’ my papers together and gettin’ ready to call it a fuckin’ day.
In mid-yawn a minute later, I saw the security lady pointin’ Miss Tall in my direction and bzzzzt, the buzzer went off in my head, and the crowd began to cheer and my boys bum-rushed the stage, givin’ me hugs and pounds. The show host was blown; he had that you-son-of-gun-how-did-you-know look on his freakin’ face. I looked at him, threw both my hands up and shrugged like hey, it ain’t a thing. Am a prophet like that!
Ladies and gentlemen, the prophecy was comin’ true right in front of my eyes. What prophecy was that again, you say? The one I told y’all about me knowin’ that the girl would come to me for help even right before she walked in the door…hello! Lol.
Stop it, I told myself! And jus in time for her arrival at my counter, I cut the yawn short, kill off the light on the imaginary crowd cheerin’ for me and turned on my Bruce Willis smile (a smile in the corner of your mouth), I said, “hi, how may I help you…you tall glass of Smirnoff spin?” Ok, am lyin’, that ‘tall glass of Smirnoff spin’ bit wasn’t said…it was jus a thought left for future use.
“Hi,” she replied, rewardin me wit’ a smile as she set an iPhone, a blackberry and her bag down on the counter. “I need to get some money from my Mobile Money account but I've forgotten my pin (number). Can you please help with it?” she continued
Still wearin’ that Die Hard smile (Bruce Willis’ style), I answered, “I could but it can’t be done today. The guys am suppose to call to help wit’ the password reset already shut down for the day”.
Leaning forward, “Please, I really need to get some money out of the account ‘cause there’s something I need to do like urgently,” she pleaded.
I rubbed my eyes and shook my head slowly.
“You know, I’ve been here a couple of times for Mobile Money,” she said
“Oh really,” I dimmed my eyes and quickly rummaged through my mental folders for her file but I came up wit nothin’, “how come I don’t remember you?”
“That’s because you’ve never served me” her BlackBerry chimed, she picked it up and typed a reply to some BBM. “I mostly come in for BIS subscription renewal. I see you all the time.”
“Oh, ok! Here I am thinkin’ you musta seen me on TV coolin’ Kanye and ‘em.”
“You wish” she smiled and said softly, “So, are you going to help me?”
“Well, if you had been here fifteen minutes earlier, I woulda done it for you,” I responded
Crushed, she rested both elbows on the counter, cupped her face in her palms, “pleeease,” she whispered.
Shawtie had a look on her face, the kinda look a lil girl would give an evil uncle who’s refused to let her have some Hershey’s (chocolate).
“Ah! You’re tryna blackmail a brotha wit that look, aren’t you?” I said in mock horror.
Batting her fake ass lashes, “Nooo!” she giggled, “Besides, the security lady said if I talk to you nicely that you might help.”
“Ok, lemme see what I can do. Give me your national ID and write your phone number down on that,” I said, Slidin’ her a lil piece of paper.
20 Minutes Later
Everythin’ done, Ms. Tall was happy, lookin’ every inch a satisfied customer that she was. I got the feelin’ I’d morphed from an evil chocolate hoardin’ uncle to a generous mutherfucker. She said thanks. I told her she was welcome.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Oh wait, lemme guess, you want to ask me to marry you?” I teased.
“Wait, let me think about it” she paused “well I thought about it and nahhh.”
“Oh ok” I covered my face and feigned sadness, “so what was it you wanted to ask?”
“Why do keep such an unruly beard?”
“’Cause I want to join the talibans” I quipped. “Besides, my wife and kids love it.”
“Puh-lease, you’re not even married” she hissed.
Before she scooped her bag gracefully from the counter to leave, she handed me a folded lil piece of paper she’d written somethin’ on. I unfolded it and for a second, my jaws dropped. I picked ‘em up quickly and acted like a boss would; I smiled. She winked, turned and sashayed out the door.
Thursday
15 August
18:39
I stood in front of one of the huge open fridges at Pick N Pack shop (a supermarket); nonchalantly singin’ John Mayer’s waiting for the world to change, contemplatin’ what brand of butter I should cop. Truth is, I was makin’ calculations in my head, tryin’ to see if I have enough for the brand I wanted and two loaves of freshly baked bread.
“Hi there” a female voice pulled me out of my contemplation. I turned around slowly (couldn’t turn my neck, shit’s been stiff for weeks now) and bam, it was the girl from a month ago, the one who left me a jaw-droppin’ note! There she was, she and her friend and a cart filled wit groceries.
“Look at you, standin’ there, singin’ to the fridge?” she said with a smirk.
I told her I was groomin’ my ass for the day I’ll become a rock star performin’ to a packed out stadium. She laughed and introduced me to her friend. We said the customary nice to ya. As we parted a few minutes later, she puts her hand to the side of her face, pinky to mouth, thumb to ear, mimicking a telephone and said, “Make use of that note”.
Outro
Oh yeah, about the note…what’s the biggie about the doggone note anyways, you ask? Well, there’s really no big deal if you’re a magic Don Juan like me…nah, am jus playin’. On a Don Juan scale, I don’t even measure. Lol.
The note says “something tells me u and me will fuck someday. Call me.”
My jaws were justified for fallin’, right? I mean, shit like don’t happen everyday to an average Joe. Except your name is Usher, you jus' don’t get females droppin’ notes like that on ya, do you? I don’t think so.
What did I do wit the number and the note? I tore it the moment she walked out the door. Now, I know alotta head-shakers might not believe I did that but that’s the true story right there.
Why did I tear the note? Well, business and pleasure don’t usually mix well and I knew if I kept the note, then there was every possibility that a nigga might make use of the number.
Now, no prize for guessin’ that if I’d shaken that tall tree jus a tiny bit, alil somethin’ somethin’ juicy would have fallen.
BURN NOTE AFTER READIN'
AFriday
13
July
16:28
I saw
her way before she and her tall self brought themselves through the
door and somehow I knew she was goin’ to come to my counter for
some help (there were five counters there, by the way). Once in the
door, she went to the security lady standin’ by the display glass
to inquire bout some’ as I turned my attention to gatherin’ my
papers together and gettin’ ready to call it a fuckin’ day.
In
mid-yawn a minute later, I saw the security lady pointin’ Miss Tall
in my direction and bzzzzt, the buzzer went off in my head, and the
crowd began to cheer and my boys bum-rushed the stage, givin’ me
hugs and pounds. The show host was blown; he had that
you-son-of-gun-how- did-you-know look on his freakin’ face. I
looked at him, threw both my hands up and shrugged like hey, it ain’t
a thing. Am a prophet like that!
Ladies
and gentlemen, the prophecy was comin’ true right in front of my
eyes. What prophecy was that again, you say? The one I told y’all
about me knowin’ that the girl would come to me for help even right
before she walked in the door…hello! Lol.
Stop
it, I told myself! And jus in time for her arrival at my counter, I
cut the yawn short, kill off the light on the imaginary crowd
cheerin’ for me and turned on my Bruce Willis smile (a smile in
the corner of your mouth), I said, “hi, how may I help you…you
tall glass of Smirnoff spin?” Ok, am lyin’, that ‘tall glass of
Smirnoff spin’ bit wasn’t said…it was jus a thought left for
future use.
“Hi,”
she replied, rewardin me wit’ a smile as she set an iPhone, a
blackberry and her bag down on the counter. “I need to get some
money from my mobile money account but I’ve forgotten my pin
(number). Can you please help with it?” she continued
Still
wearin’ that Die Hard smile (Bruce Willis’ style), I answered, “I
could but it can’t be done today. The guys am suppose to call to
help wit’ the password reset already shut down for the day”
Leaning
forward, “Please, I really need to get some money out of the
account ‘cause there’s something I need to do like urgently,”
she plead
I
rubbed my eyes and shook my slowly.
“You
know, I’ve been here a couple of times for mobile money,” she
said
“Oh
really,” I dimmed my eyes and quickly rummaged through my mental
folders for her file but I came up wit nothin’, “how come I don’t
remember you?”
“That’s
because you’ve never served me” her BlackBerry chimed, she picked
it up and typed a reply to some BBM. “I mostly come in for BIS
subscription renewal. I see you all the time”
“Oh,
ok! Here I am thinkin’ you musta seen me on TV coolin’ Kanye and
‘em”
“You
wish” she smiled and said softly, “So, are you going to help me?”
“Well,
if you had been here fifteen minutes earlier, I woulda done it for
you,” I responded
Crushed,
she rested both elbows on the counter, cupped her face in her palms,
“pleeease,” she whispered.
Shawtie
had a look on her face, the kinda look a lil girl would give an evil
uncle who’s refused to let her have some Hershey’s (chocolate).
“Ah!
You’re tryna blackmail a brotha wit that look, aren’t you?” I
said in mock horror
Batting
her fake ass lashes, “Nooo!” she giggled, “Besides, the
security lady said if I talk to you nicely that you might help”
“Ok,
Lemme see what I can do. Give me your national id and write your
phone number down on that, “I said, Slidin’ her a lil piece of
paper.
20
Minutes Later
Everythin’
done, Ms. Tall was happy, lookin’ every inch a satisfied customer
that she was. I got the feelin’ I’d morphed from an evil
chocolate hoardin’ uncle to a generous mutherfucker. She said
thanks. I told her she was welcome.
“Can
I ask you something?” she asked
“Oh
wait, lemme guess, you want to ask me to marry you?” I teased
“Wait,
let me think about it” she paused “well I thought about it and
Nahhh”
“Oh
ok” I covered my face and feigned sadness, “so what was it you
wanted to ask”
“Why
do keep such an unruly beard”
“’Cause
I want to join the talibans” I quipped. “Besides, my wife and
kids love it,”
“Puh-lease,
you’re not even married” she hissed
Before
she scooped her bag gracefully from the counter to leave, she handed
me a folded lil piece of paper she’d written somethin’ on. I
unfolded it and for a second, my jaws dropped. I picked ‘em up
quickly and acted like a boss would; I smiled. She winked, turned and
sashayed out the door.
Thursday
15
August
18:39
I stood
in front of one of the huge open fridges at Pick N Pack shop (a
supermarket); nonchalantly singin’ John Mayer’s waiting for the
world to change, contemplatin’ what brand of butter I should cop.
Truth is, I was makin’ calculations in my head, tryin’ to see if
I have enough for the brand I wanted and two loaves of freshly baked
bread.
“Hi
there” a female voice pulled me out of my contemplation. I turned
around slowly (couldn’t turn my neck, shit’s been stiff for weeks
now) and bam, it was the girl from a month ago, the one who left me a
jaw-droppin’ note! There she was, she and her friend and a cart
filled wit groceries.
“Look
at you, standin’ there, singin’ to the fridge?” she said with a
smirk
I told
her I was groomin’ my ass for the day I’ll become a rock star
performin’ to a packed out stadium. She laughed and introduced me
to her friend. We said the customary nice to ya. As we parted a few
minutes later, she puts her hand to the side of her face, pinky to
mouth, thumb to ear, mimicking a telephone and said, “Make use of
that note”
Outro
Oh
yeah, about the note…what’s the biggie about the doggone note
anyways, you ask? Well, there’s really no big deal if you’re a
magic Don Juan like me…nah, am jus playin’. On a Don Juan scale,
I don’t even measure. Lol
The
note says “something tells me u and me will fuck someday. Call me”
My jaws
were justified for fallin’, right? I mean, shit like don’t happen
every day to an average Joe. Except your name is Usher, you jus don’t
get females droppin’ notes like that on ya, do you? I don’t think
so.
What
did I do wit the number and the note? I tore it the moment she walked
out the door. Now, I know alotta head-shakers might not believe I did
that but that’s the true story right there.
Why did
I tear the note? Well, business and pleasure don’t usually mix well
and I knew if I kept the note, then there was every possibility that
a nigga might make use of the number.
Now, no
prize for guessin’ that if I’d shaken that tall tree jus a tiny bit, alil
somethin’ somethin’ juicy would have fallen.
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