MidKnyte - A Ghetto Poem Lyrics

      

A Ghetto Poem
by MidKnyte

Intro
Ima be real yall
Don’t ever let some fuckass bitch tell you ain’t nun
Keep yo head down, work on yo shit and surround yourself with no snakes
‘Cause, y’know, half them folks you fuck with are all fakes, all snakes bruh
Tryna lie to you about yo- stu- shit, and
Just keep your head up but yo dreams up
That’s some real talk right there
Real shit
(turn it up)

 PART 1

Verse
Trust me, i don’t spray and pray
If i shoot my shot, you gon’ lay in a grave
Fuck 6, you gon’ be 8 feet deep today
My sticks will make you bleed heat, you better pray
I’m happy i can’t relate to that bitch
And i ain’t gonna snitch
And i ain’t gonna miss
But i gotta say, by the way, that hate, ima diss
Your fate is an abyss
My fate is in a list
It was made from the rich
I got paid to just hit
I painted my wrist
A fatal mistake
You painted yo stick
Orange on thе muzzle
Shush, it's all subtle
I rate it about 6
You insanе about yo bitch
I'm insane about my bricks
You play with the tricks
I rob the bank, run away
And take all the shit
Bury these bitches, like, Rest In Piss
I’m scary with intentions, ay, fuck you chris
Chariot of wishes, lies, like yo diss
Very ambiguous, dude, just harbor it
Uh
And i be going hard
Ball so much, i’m in foreign cars
Nah
I’m broke as shit
I never owned no shit
I never owned no bricks
So i can never flip (flip, flip, flip)

Interlude
(Ay bitch, whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?
Run allat shit
Run allat shit!)

 PART 2

Verse
Fuck it up with a beat switch
I wanna beat it
I wanna sock it in it’s noggin’
I wanna see red
See, the beat had no street cred
So we had to torture him until
He wanna be dead
Roman candle, i’ll turn his block into a ligtshow
"You’re an asshole", all that talk but it’s alright, ho
Yea
I just be saying shit
You don't know if I'm really dangerous
I got a fucking major hit
So icy, I call it a glacier wrist
All this fame I'ma savor it
Married to the game she my favorite
Raised in the boondocks I'ma pay her chips
Bring a boom box, I'ma serenade that bitch
I'm Jack the ripper
I was raised in the villa
Came from gorillas
Banging on his chest
I might bang in his chest
Just to kill ya
It's too vanilla
Dine and dash leave the check fast
Just to bill ya
That's the real ya
Doesn't that sound familiar?
I'll write yo name in my list
Cause I'm still a realer bitch
Than you banana peelers is
I'm a winner, finna go apeshit
I'ma born sinner I took eight hits
Yea

Outro
Chronological
I'ma chronic, got some compton moves
Since the Chronic I'ma get to popping you
Popping you, you might get hopping too
Interupt the barbeque, I'ma fucking stop and shoot
Pop a hot in you
Better cop a noose ‘fore I get to cropping you
What I would do if I was you
Don't let me rob yo shoes
And harbor new some garden tools
I'm tired of views
Nah I'm just tired of you
I used to admire you
But now I'm in denial too
I don't desire you
Only if I knew
But, i knew