The Conman Ate, Two Plates Of Ty Poem by Verlecia fields

mental mind
of the slipping kind
you been
trip-en so divine
here in your sick little willful hive
you've been acting so unkind
just to rap your hands around
my swishy, dishy, hip lyrics here
its driven you to find
me to be of the simple mind
but have no fear i see you clear
you are of the criminal kind
and would like it if
i wrote you the greatest of designs
but this is no
because i don't want to be a music hoe
so take a hike
and find some one
who want to write