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Hey. What are you doin' ?
Writing a poem.
See, my poetry, it helps me escape the harsh realities of livin' in the hood.
Ah. That's deep.
Hey, you wanna read me one ?
Okay.
Let me see.
[ whispers ] yeah. Yeah.
"love is by far...
"the most precious thing on earth,
"like a rose's fragrance...
"or a child's birth. [ sighs ]
"love me...
"and leave me;
"that's the story of my life.
"but it won't happen again, see,
"since I bought a butcher's knife.
"yeah, see, the next man who loves me,
"and leaves me so quick, mm-hmm,
"I'm gon' cut off his balls and I'm gon' chop off his ***. [ moaning ]
"I'm gon' shoot that ***.
"I'm gon' kill him ! I'm gon' stab that *** !
"*** ! ***' with me ? Oh, no !
"I'm gon' run him over with my car, see.
"he ***' with the wrong ***. You don't *** with me !
I will kill that ***--" baby, baby, baby, baby.
I get the point. It was-- that was-- you liked it ?