|“Used to tell they friends I was ugly and wouldn’t touch me. And then I showed up in that dubbed out buggy. Then they got fussy and they don’t remember that…and I don’t remember you.” Jay-Z – Song Cry
| The thirst is super real.
I’ve been to a couple of showcases and open mics lately and I swear it keeps getting thirstier out there. N*ggas go from asking me my name, to if I “have a man”. “You married,” they like to ask. Little do they know, I wouldn’t date a man who doesn’t understand that marriage would mean a ring on my finger. If he doesn’t care to look for whether or not the ring is there, I ain’t counting on him to put it there either.Perhaps the reason men end up dating whores is because they “wanna get to know” anything walking down the street.
I haven’t talked about my “love life” for some time, but it seems that’s all people care about. I wish people would mind their business. When I talk about how my puppy thinks my bed is hers, people only want to talk about how I’ll handle having a man in bed. You see… that’s the problem. When you think of me and my bed, all you want to know is who’s in it. When I mention the museum, no one cares who went with me.
“I mean, you beautiful. I wanna get to know you,” follows me everywhere. “That don’t say sh*t about me, hun. Have a nice day,” is the only way I can respond. The worst is when they ask for my number to “talk”… aboooout whaaaaat? It’s terrible in this industry, too because niggas will pretend to respect you and invite you events and all that, but get you in a private conversation and try their hand. Perhaps we do need stronger gun laws cuz these n*ggas are likely to test and I’m likely to respond. I’m rarely alone with men. There are few I trust private conversations with. I don’t trust private conversations period, but when n*ggas lie, things end up worse. Even if nothing happened, guys do go by the guy code… and if they think the homie hit it… he might as well should have. You can ask about me… I truly don’t play games, but when I do I play them well. It’s funny cuz I’ll get on stage and give them a “f*ck niggas” verse, and then they’ll try to run game on me —wife me even (in hood terms, no ring). N*ggas just don’t listen.
Am I wrong from wanting someone to want more from me?
Really, I’m saving you from hell. I’m terrible. I’ll empty all your accounts and forget your name. You have no idea. It’s in me and I consider playing games all the time. N*ggas have gotten even more thirsty now that they see me pull up. I’ve got a new b*tch and her name is Kim: a 2006 325i from Mac Cars in Delaware.
She’s pristine aside from a broken cup holder (thugs). N*ggas damned near drool when they see her and women do too. I remember when my brother first bought his Tahoe. I told him to watch out for how many new friends he would have (I was probably 16 to his 27. As much older as he was from me, he taught me to be real.) I have just as many friends now as I used to tho. I don’t try and chill cuz I can. I’m as dolo as I’ve ever been and happy to be so.
Every time I go through my list of accomplishments, I’m proud I’ve done it for me. #RealShit, the longer I hold off, the more my stock goes up. I don’t need a man to validate me. What I need is a man to stand beside me. Sometimes, we keep people/things by our sides just to say we have them. I meet a lot of guys. Especially now. Especially fake ballers who I could gas just to spend all their bread. I saw a handsome fella in an all-white 4Matic the other day and I’ve been known to approach and get what I want… but then I realized all I wanted what his car. What it seemed like he could do for me. That n*ggas don’t know me tho. I didn’t know him either. So I threw Kim in drive and lit my black & mild. Truth is, I’d rather eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all week than to pretend I like somebody for their money. The shit ain’t worth it. It’s stressful. I’d rather be alone. I don’t like most niggas. They just weren’t made for me. If I don’t love you, I don’t love you. I know that’s a strong emotion to have, but shouldn’t it be? The thing about love… is it’s not stressful. It shouldn’t take thought… nor emblems.
At the end of the day, these n*ggas aint no better than b*tches. People are trifling. They want to take advantage of you. They want whatever they see just to say they’ve had it with no real intentions (unless they have hidden intentions). They’re thirsty and just want to be up in somebody’s face so they have something to Instagram. I got better shit to do than to worry about a human dog. Duchess already eats my shoes, but at least that b*tch is loyal. So this is a short post because I really don’t have the time to worry about n*ggas. Get Money, yo. lol.