messages

she say you… you sonofabitch
she mad now she wana take a razr to my wrist
i swear i didn’t mean no harm
i apologize for my pre
vious goings on
but she up in her room
crying up a storm
i’m gone
cuz whenever i phone
i grunt and then i groan
she be on the line
naggin mid-night to the morn
like when your cell phone ring nirvana
some chic called named katana
my girl promised no more drama
but every message is a problem
now how do i explain
the rumors and the envy
when they come a plenty
and i just look all guilty
i say i’ma G1
i’ma man 2
i ain’t got a three
i’m just gone do what i’m gone do
but my inbox she always going through
she search my roc files tryna get a dj clue
but the blackberry, always got the sweetest juice
dont suspect that white girl
standing between me and that grey goose
them camera phone angles
they just be so obtuse
but every new message
puttin my neck up in a noose
she say if one more ex text
then we are through
wish she could see it through my vu
but she don’t even dare
i be like i got proof
and she don’t even care
i guess that i just propel her
to not trust me forever
so she left a text of her own:
i can do better

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