tonight, i was chillin with a couple girls and my dude.. he goes to this cuban guy’s crib to make a sale right quick..
cool..
then we go out, cop some green n come back there to chill and just smoke a L..
the dude’s married, has a kid, a nice ass house (even though its a duplex, the insides madd nice), and he’s real nice.
so we’re sittin at the kitchen table sparkin up while his wife cooks us sausages (word.)
when all of a sudden tony montana come up n sit next to me with his lil crack pipe.
he does his thing, while we do ours.
suddenly, he starts getting into these crazy stories about how he has another wife and a house in brazil with a lot in front, a few apartments up north, all kinda shit..
he’s got the accent down too.
he also wants “the extacies.. dey real good to make love wit, ju know?”
the whole time i’m sittin there thinkin, “damn.. this sausage is delicious and i’m sittin next to the real live scarface right now”
dude was madd cool..
when we all got back in the car there was a lil bit of silence..
i come out with “yo i just feel like i met scarface”..lol
everybody agrees madd quick n shit.. i was like damn, that nigga from the movie is real..
damn i wish i could be creative. you know what i’m sayin?
like i wanna be a rapper, but i know i ain’t goin nowhere unless i start some new shit.
but to be successful, it’s gotta be different enough to be brand new, but not too different where it’s something completely unheard of and no one even wants to fuck with it.
but the harder i try to be different, the more i end up like everybody else.
maybe that shit just gotta come natural.
idunno, i’m just venting i guess.. or goin off on a tangent, whatever you call it..
isn’t that what blogs are for? lemme know if i’m doing it wrong..
i wrote a freestyle to this joint a minute ago..
never got around to recordin it.
maybe one day..
hey bag lady, i like your bag, lady/
it got the same logo that my wallet has baby/
yeah that’s the louie, lookin’ oh so gooey/
hot n chewy, don’t you wish you knew me?/
i’m so damn fly that the pilot flew me/
..pause, but these bars is so damn hot/
and you know they straight off the stove top../
..of my dome. ET phone home, won’t leave me alone/
my girls back on Mars keep blowin up my phone/
they callin me a dogg, and i’m just tryna bone/
they like the way my swagg stand out like traffic cones/
the sickest bastard on.. the track../
just blast it on yo stereo, there we go/
my flow is just oh so.. whoa/
..yeah you know its crazy/
i gotta do it cuz hip hop made me/
so i gotta make hiphop, yeah my shits hot/
..yeah you know it rock/
i’m killin this man, when will it stop?/
maybe now, lemme check the clock/
its about 1.30 in the afternoon/
ain’t got shit to do but just keep it cool/
and if you think this whack, then i think you’re a fool/
matsuflex flow, and you lookin like a tool/
and i’m just tryna screw, i don’t wanna drive her../
in the wrong direction, don’t jive her/
i’m just tryna work wit it like macgyver/
if bein fresh was a crime then i would be a lifer…
remember, it was a freestyle so idunno if that was exactly what i said..
but oh well, shit’s pretty dope regardless.
