So we’re done? This the real shit?
We used to hold hands like field trips
I’m a jerk, but your dude is a real dick
I read his post on your wall and I feel sick
He ain’t cool, he ball and all that
But he just a fake nigga who blog in all caps
You couldn’t wait to date
I’m going straight for your thighs like the cake you ate
I give a fuck about the niggas that you say you ate
You know that I’m the best when I’m a-fake-tionate
I’m the best that you had, face it
J and Keyshia are related: racist
I give you money, then you burn me, then you made off
She ain’t a killer, but she’d fucking blow your head off
I know he wondering, “What the fuck you hiding?”
That we dated like raps about Bin Laden
Ayo, fuck this
Are we dating? Are we fucking?
Are we best friends? Are we something? In between that?
I wish we never fucked, and I mean that
But not really, you say the nastiest shit in bed and it’s fuckin’ awesome
Life is not made up of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but of moments. You must experience each one before you can appreciate it.
Sarah Ban Breathnach