Tag Archives: lovejones

Love Letters from the Hood vol 4.

I school you like black folk being shown the boondocks
Every time I tick your boom box
My second hand ruins clocks
With cold play the room the rocks
My motion is curt so I sniff Cobaine
Get you high and ready for my purple reign
In principle I’m weather vain
So blow me like the winds of indoctrination
See I lay you then lay claim to you
You are my patent
You’re micro soft to my bad apple
Peach queen,
Your juices energise my saddle
Reducing Ginuwine’s first line to babble
Said I’m not bachelor and
Your bad ass is making this soft boy harder
The way you rub so incisively
Decisively,
You thrilling me killin’ me
Said I’m so anxious
I’m trippin’
I’m stumbling
My lips are fumbling like a nervous young bomber
Mama, Mama, Mama
Martyr this moment
This is just a second row hit,
Don’t come till we hit the back of the line
You’re a serial killer with your tongue tied
Around my hung rhyme
My epic piece
Not written with a biro in hieroglyphics
I got a fountain pen
Recognise the thesis,
Acknowledge me like Romulus and Remus
And
When
You…
Respect the architect, like Guru and his nuances
I’ll show you,
You already knew what the blue print is
Yeah I got reasonable doubt like Hova did
I ain’t mad atcha cos I’m fallin just the same
Caressing those white cliffs of dover
I don’t want this to be a once hung
Over
Like Suge Knight trying to sign Vanilla ice
I need more than 20 stories
36 chambers
Most definitely
I want us to be the new danger
See a quiet dog may bite hard
But a real man guards the keys to a heart
Will you fight for this love
Or just watch the throne
I don’t want to be alone
Princess…

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Filed under Collaborations

Rosa King

I wanna know if our 2 plus 2 = foreplay
Or if finger licking will produce enough sauce to have me your way
If I squeeze s cream will it be raw gain
Get me loaded, locked for my pure aim
Will we strike chromo semantics spores, leave our flaw stained
How many time will I score in your lane
Will it change what you shout from my name to Your Dame
Knees bent like you’re praying, knowing I am Lord of the manner
Can I
Let our 2 plus 2 turn into 3 plus one
See 2 plus 1 = the words you plus gone
So I wanna know before I wear Trojan John
If we can see if 3 into one goes across your divide
I wanna start back at 4 if that’s alright
You choose the figure, when to multiply
When to linger
Your hands turn me into a singer
Where mine are tinged with lavender and hot lemon cinders
Creeping up your spine like a running vine without resistance
You call this a draft,
I call it listless the way I slowly strum your plum strings
The pick up is an early warning sign that rings and ring and rings
I am wedded too your chime
Doing calculus to the sounds of algebra for moment I play in your drumline
You are my snare
Your Berlin is the space for our fan fare
I could spit poetry and go where snakes dare,
I could sing floetry and roll tongues where fakes care
Instead I listen and know an end to the wait is near
I wanna quit playing and see if our instruments will take us there
Yet I’m the one delaying to know your worth it

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Filed under Relationships