Pussy Can Talk
by Stormm
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by Stormm
T. is doing 25 years for multiple homicides,
along with numerous other offenses I'm sure.
He's a crime Don now, running things from the inside.
I guess he had always been kinda obsessed with Running Tings.
Word is he's living like a king in there, got several underlings doing his bidding.
Him tell me say,
"dem have fe bow down when me a pass thru, or get shot inna dem face".
On a collect call from prison with the thickest patwa accent I've ever heard,
some straight off the boat, ghetto youth, incarcerated scarface, shottas talk.
An accent so rough an gruff,
that I a born Jamacian must struggle to keep up & decipher.
Funny I don't remember him ever being from Jamaica,
far as I know he was just a light skinned, mixed breed mixed up Canadian,
from Scarborough.
Real talk, a bigger head we knew,
linked him to the drug trade back in high school daze, when last I seen him.
He moved up.
Along the way earning the street moniker of an infamous now dead middle east dictator.
I still remember what he said all those years ago, our final meeting.
He came to tell me that the pussy talk to him.
He had been chilling with a girly.
They were doing the deed, maybe smoking some weed in between,
when he swears her pussy started talking to him.
The lips looked at him, started moving, speaking in tongues so to speak,
it even called his name.
Naturally this had blown his mind, so he travelled cross town.
From his far east and expensive new development detached home,
to my low income Ontario Housing hood, right on the border line.
You see I who actually lived in The Projects, wanted out,
but my friends from middle and upper middle class homes wanted in.
In a big way.
I never did ask or get to find out what the pussy said,
just that it blew his mind and he would never be the same.
We went our separate ways.
Far too many other talented brothers and sisters where dropping all around me.
I would have been "What Are You Stupid?"
to not take notice and get out the game before I was next.
Didn't wanna become another used up victim of society,
caught in the crossfire of deliberately defective urban planning,
a cypher or statistic, "just another victim kid".
Besides T. was already getting fame, known as a gun man, too hot headed,
looking for a rep, he was That Guy.
You know the one shooting up sessions, looking for any reason to bust two shots.
The Dance would be nice,
and your getting down with a sweet ting when he starts shooting up the place,
no matter how well dressed, you better duck down,
hit the floor, forget about that girl and run for your life.
I'm talking "make some noise y'all! Somebody, everybody, SCREAM"!
No, he was the guy to avoid, to be cool with, while headed in the opposite direction.
Maybe I could see his future? Maybe I wanted to reach mine?
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