The Biggie’s Last Cry

Avishek Sahu
January 27, 2017

Griping at your peers with the fruits of the wayward
Ticking up for creeps to the mutes in the bee herd
That might all fall away with the sprays of the vulpine
If not with the end of the plants that grow leeward

Freaking out of fear of the goons dunking playtime
Chucking out the nous that comes free with the showtime
Play the part of the fool that goes hung from the lunacy
If not from the tits that go oozy with the dark rhyme

Now comes time for a car that got built by a weirdo
Getting paid to fuck it up like the mistress of a dodo
That got killed trying to find the mojo of his lifetime
In a spite-full of luck made to suck up to the paedo

If it gets too tight stocking leaves up your smart shelves
Lining up your streets like the magic of those white elves
Come singing down the coast of the curse of my sanity
Injected with the juices that we just couldn’t brook ourselves

Okay now biggie with your heart smelling upstarts
With your problems so cosmic and your cat smelling tough farts
Get off the high horse and get my boredom off to parity
With your boredom so loud they got to tell me how it all starts