I am the
mutha fuckin SHIT!
I am too
legit to quit!
So I think--Hey!
Hey!
But that
shit don’t matter.
You could be
the queen of England with a golden pussy on a platter…
None of that
shit would matter.
You could
cook, sheave, clean.
Be his black
queen. Rub his back, tell him he’s the shit.
Be his
peace, give him laughter.
But to an
undeserving nigga, none of that shit really matters.
You could
spin around keep the dick still inside, stroke his egostick on a magic carpet
ride.
And STILL
that shit wouldn’t even matter
He could
have his cake, have his way with your heart on a stake.
Throw two
shits to the wind, where oh where do I begin?
You thought
yo ass was up to the plate, first batter.
Haha, think
again bitch—doesn’t matter!
You tried to
come in—like a wrecking ball.
Thwarting
and wreaking havoc on his emotional walls.
I am woman!
Hear me nurture. Receive my Love!
With you, I can
see a future baby daddy….
BLOOP! Think
Again—Doesn’t matter Hoe!
Girl, let me
tell you…You got sooo much love to give. Why not lend your talents to someone
deserving. Someone who isn’t broken, and ready to receive all your gifts and swanky
things.
But I know
your type, the HGTV fixer upper woman of hype. You love the potter’s house
game. Ignoring the shame of entangling your emotions on a deserted love ocean because you like to tame.
The
irony of your pangs, is that you’re alone in the blame for the pieces of your
heart you must clatter.
Cause really…HE
doesn’t matter…
 |
| Maybe you shoulda got with the Nutty Professor sis...he'd appreciate you lol |
