I was inspired to write this poem because of my interst of the whole mafioso life style that the Italians displayed in movies or in past life. This is basically an experiment that I'm trying and if things go okay, I'm gonna to write some more like this one.
I'm tired of this bullsh#t!
What do a black man got to do to make a half-million,
without the FBI,
A minute ago, I made a phone call to some friends in Peru,
asking them, "what we should do?"
The airport has tightened their security,
making it hard for me.
Them Colombians are out to stick me for my pesos
but, I ain't gonna let them touch it though.
I just flushed the ya-yoe down the toilet to make sure,
that they won't find out what's going down.
My girl don't want me to leave.
She wants to stay with me
but, I'm not happy
because my enemies,
used to be my homies.
We used to pop bottles of Cristies
and reminisce about how life used to be.
I never neglected to supply keys,
when they was in need.
I never neglected to supply them coke,
when they buts were broke.
Ever since I reached the top,
their support for me stopped.
Now, it's a fight for my life.
I'm in a dark tunnel with no light.
Now I'm slipping like I'm walking on grease.
forgive me, for my wrongful deeds.
I feel as if I'm in a bad dream
and wondering why these things are happening to me.
How do I rate this?!!!
Whatever happened to the mule and the forty acres.
I'm struggling to make paper
and I'm fixing to evaporate like a vapor.
But I will stay patient
and wait for a break to roll in.
I'm a desperate Haitian,
trying to find the right destination,
from a bad situation.
But as of today, I remain,
to keep my code name Jermaine,
to remain part of the Firm Mademen.
But, I find it pleasing
to know that soon, I'll be leaving.