Beyonce Falls Hard

She's not the first woman to fall head ova heel's for me...ya dig!

I'm Sorry B....I had to do it ....the fall was priceless!

A Picture Worth A Thousand Words

Its been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but what can a picture really say? Does it explain the reason why the participant smiled or what they felt that day? People wear faces but they never tell the truth, cause there is an inside to every out and I stand before you with real facts of that scenario the bold face proof. You see a picture and you think she is just plain sexy. But will it tell you that I am alone, and the man I love neglects me? You see a photo of a man that seems to have it all together, but do you see, in the background, a suicide letter? There is another picture of a child that loves their parents to death but do you see, behind the smile, the bruises that his/her parents might of left? In that same album there is a pic of an older man...grandpa so they call him. But do you see the traces of his long life's labor...and his trials to be the man he has become and his reason for them? Flipping through the pages you see someone that time has yet to be good to. But you judge them by the their actions due to the picture you see before you. A center fold, pretty face in a magazine.....news at 11, death by overdose.....never knew she had a habit...the unforseen. A picture of a sunny day....but who takes a picture of the rain...it can reflect beauty the same way. You want a picture????? Well picture this, the world is cruel and many of us, succumb to negatives because there is no one to trust....trading real life for fantasy...sex and lust. Picture Bush being a better president. Picture of boy having a father if the jail didn't hold him as a resident. Not saying things would be different because things rarely change. But I just want to frame this picture....for people with priorities to rearrange!!!

Diary of a Pimpstress (Inspired by Syn's "Hustler" Poem...read his first!)

Hi...I'm Lady but some call me baby, been so long, I struggle with my first name. But you never give up your government, thats how we stay true to the game. They call me late at night, on my hip a cell for my honey, one for my money... and one for the man I call my mister. I stand tall in stilletos looking like a model.... yes thats the way to pull in my young sisters. Fast cash, fast living, men with no names...just faces. Giving me their hard earned pay....the rent that the next check will never replace. Cuz truth is, they will be back cuz what I have here is something their wives lack. How many times has a man called his wife a bitch or whore and she got offended? But with me...I'm your fantasy, how we start is how we end it. A dollar dictates how I react. And I better get this money right cuz a pimpstress has dues too...a greedy ass pimp in fact. He slaps me around but I don't bitch....he gone end up like my last one, somewhere in a shallow ass ditch. Don't they ever learn...didnt they all know. There is loyalty to no man in a ho. I owes no one nothing this is my ass to give. What the hell this is how I eat...this is how I live. Yeah but I get tired too, so I enlist a new chick to turn out...she could use the money...a run away no doubt. So yeah I introduce her to some of my clients, you know the ones that gonna give up the dollars anyway. Never giving up my real connects....but of course I get a percentage...I'm the one that got her the job...shit an old hoe has to have a place to stay. She comes in late nights..done started getting high on dope....I thought I taught a bitch better than that...seventeen years old... look at her and she can barely cope. So I throw her ass to the wolves...what do I need with this chick. So I'm back out there on my own....another dollar another dick. Shit it aint nothing I stay true to the code. The woman who turned me out still pimpin, over fifty years old. Why?...cuz women have what all men want. A wet pussy, a notch on their belts....but I'm their little secret... you won't say my name in public...so it's you the dark of the night haunts. They all know too well, this my money I aint gonna tell. This shit don't even get me wet no more. But my pussy reacts on cue, yeah like a role in a play.... ive on stage...hey it pays the bills to be a whore. But like i said before, a hoe is getting old lookin for some new chicks wanting that fast money, men without faces...more pussy to enlist. And this in fact is the diary of a pimpstress.

Hustler: The Definition Of

I’m tired…in the very definition of the word previously spoken….posted up….trying to remember a Shawn Carter rhyme worth quoting…..clutching the very substance…that detaches the dream-world from reality….turning humans into zombies….state of existing into fatalities….the times 2:15….my feet yet to divorce the concrete…until I knock off this last piece….than separated they won’t be…it’s self motivation…..Jay’s words remain evident….words that do more than just represent…I’m here for dead presidents…..Washington’s obsolete….Franklin’s the only relevant….started as a fad…..but I’ve been hustling ever since…couldn’t be pushed…..wouldn’t be moved….I don’t get in where I fit in….I get in……make plans…..move shit in…..and then sit in…..re-up….stretching….and flipping….the procedures awfully redundant……the connect offers ten-a-key…..so I move weight in abundance….no remorse…..nor recourse….for the actions I initiate….by the time a moment of reflection presents itself….it’s already too late…..and I laugh when people think they know my true occupation….I ain’t a measly dope-boy….I’m a master of separation…..I’m the taker of lost souls….those never to be found again…..young ones that grow old…..warm hearts become cold….those too…..without regret…..and I done seen a lot of hustlers…..but none like me yet….I’m not halfway in…and half out….them type jokers is lame….that’s why I remain all in….like a good hand in a poker game…..cause the truth is….the ones that try get out…never can…..and just like cards….the hand that folds….never wins….happily ever what?......the game never ends….when one hustler dies….a hustler is born again….that’s why I only play for keeps….that’s what I was taught growing up…..my motto is “Go Hard…..Or Don’t Bother Showing Up”…...I only kill when I have to…enemies that is….other than that I’m just a normal Joe….trying to handle my biz…..but if they try to tell me I can’t eat….then nobody lives….that goes for parents….and children….i.e.…little kids….am I really that evil?....I’d like to not think so…..but if it’s down to me or them…than it’s them…that has to go…..in this game full of amateurs…I consider myself a pro….first lesson…..D-T-A (Don’t Trust Anybody)…..so I roll solo…….second lesson’s….keep ya head….no time for nothing drastic…..third is….get in get out…that’s an ol’ G’s classic….fourth is too simple….cause Biggie ain’t never lie….”Never get high on ya own supply”….end up with ya life lost…if you ever break the fifth….cause never at any cost…should you feed the urge to snitch…..I don’t care if I’m going broke…..and my enemy is rich…..I couldn’t justify a reason….I’d rather put myself in a ditch….keep your clientele happy….before quantity…comes quality….there’s no honor amongst thieves as well as a strong lack of honesty…..with all this good advice….most still never succeed… they lack the motivation….the passion….the need….I’m addicted…..like the very substance my customers love…..I’m Reno….I’m a hustler…the very definition of - Syn

A Man

As a man I don’t have the definition for what a real man is…..but I just look inside myself and know that a real man lives…..and as men we choose to prove ourselves….at work…at home….in the bed….and in the presence of other men….not wanting to be seen as weak….we emulate the strong…shun those unlike us….and prey on the meek….we are simple yet misunderstood…..stereotyped at every chance…..we are no good…lying…cheating….dogs…..but that’s only at first glance….at seconds…we are pride…passion….on the grind…and I don’t mean with a female…WE’RE ON THE GRIND….so trust that I’m on mine…like a real man should be….like a little boy try’s to be….like a real man would be….and when I say a little boy…..I don’t mean someone young….I mean those content on living and dying by the gun…..stealing choices from other men…that they…themselves have never had….and they say that a man is only half a man…if it’s he who lacks a dad….but if that man is the dad…but not a father…than I say what’s the use….But a real WOMAN can raise a real MAN….I consider myself as living proof…..I lay proof to the few….the few who show respect….without any hesitation…to that of the opposite sex….the few…who don’t wanna just make babies…but actually father their kids….the few who aren’t living off a Real Woman….they handle their own biz….For this I owe to the men who came before me…..from the first being…known as Adam….to Martin Luther King….I say Adam proudly…for he’s the definition of one who gives….for a real woman was created…from only one of his ribs…though he fell of shortcomings…..it is what it is…..in essence…..he’s the reason for the greatest man who ever lived….Jesus is the name….the payer of all our sins….more than the definition of real men……to them I say thank you….I couldn’t stress it enough….and for them I’ll carry on…..still fighting…full of trust….I am a Man…because of a Woman….I’ll one day father….because of a mother…and like Butta…..and her sisters….I’ll be there for my brothers…..I’ll be there for my sisters….I give all…for nothing…..cuz only a REAL MAN….would give himself to a REAL WOMAN! - Syn

thanx for the inspiration Butta.....you know i had to give my two cents.....i'm also finishing up that hustler poem.....should be done within a week....look for it

P.S. turn taken...lol

A WOMAN

As women, we have to steady prove ourselves...in love, in our work, in our lives. We're always trying separate ourselves from the others that want to be women, and become grouped into their sad attempts, their distant tries. We are complex, we aren't books, so we don't need to be studied or read. Judge us by our actions not our reactions, we don't always mean what was said. As emotional creatures we are prone to fits, tantrums and bouts of rage. But in other views we are nurturers, care givers, backbones, in short mothers.... Real females... the highest of the high, no need for an upgrade. As a daily routine we love, we live, we breathe.. we work, we struggle, we fight... without a second wind no room for reprieve. On our own two feet is how we stand, continuing to father our children without the help of a MAN. For this we owe to the women who came before us, laid down the road map, and grounded this foundation. Starting from Eve, one of God's first creations, to the woman who's feet were tired and refused to go to the back of the bus....we owe you praise...a shower of appreciation. I am a woman because of a woman, I am a mother because I have a mother. I will be here for others like me til the end of all time....still struggling, still fighting, because I have claimed my title as a woman...from the shadows of my hard earned life....to the corners of my mind.......Damn it I am A WOMAN!!! Hey Syn...it's your turn now...lol *wink*