Cris and A'Mirah drove down the street in almost complete silence. The only thing making a little noise was the radio.
"Mi.. Turn that up for me will ya? This is my song." Cris said, nodding his head.
"Oh, so you like rap now?"
"Love it." Cris chuckled and nodded, getting into it. He started moving his shoulders, moving back and forth from right to left and pointing his finger as he started rapping.
"Give me some brew an I might just chill, But I'm the type that like to light another joint
Like Cypress Hill. I steal doobies, spit loogies when I puff on it,
I got some bucks on it, but it ain't enough on it. Go get the S-t I-d-e-s Never the less, I'm hella fresh,
Rollin' joints like a cigarette
So pass it cross the table like Ping Pong, I'm gone, beatin' my chest like King Kong, It's on, wrap my lips around a 40, And when it comes to get another stogie,
Fools all kick in like Shinobi
No, he ain't my homie to begin with, It's too many heads to be proper to let my friend hit it
Unless you pull out the fat, crispy 5 dollar bill on the real before it's history 'Cause fools be having them vacuum lungs An if you let em hit it for free you hella dum-da-dum-dumb."
Cris started laughing. "You don't know anything about Luniz, Mi.."
"Give me two bucks, you take a puff and pass my bomb back
Suck up the dank like a Slurpee
The serious bomb will make a niggy go delirious like Eddie Murphy I got more Growing Pains than Maggie
'Cause homie, snag me to take the dank out of the baggie." He started again.
"I got five on it." He began to sing. "Grab your 40, let's get keyed. I got five on it. Messin' wit that Indo' weed. I got five on it,
It's got me stuck and not go back
I got five on it, Partna let's go half on a sack."
"I take sacks to the face." A'Mirah joined. "Whenever I can,
Don't need no crutch I'm so keyed up, Till the joint be burnin' my hand Next time I roll it in a hampa To burn slo', So the ashes won't be burnin' up my hand, bra. Hoochies can hit, But they know they got to pitch in, Then I roll a joint that's longer than your extension 'Cause I'll be damned if you get high off me for free
Hell no, you betta' bring your own spliff, chief. What's up? Don't babysit that Better pass the joint
Stop hittin' 'cause you know ya got Asthma Crack a 40 open, homie, an guzzle it, 'Cause I know the weed in my system is gettin' lonely. I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O I know I failed 'cause I done smoked major weed bro, An every time we with Chris." A'Mirah pointed to Cris. "That fool rollin' up a fattie,
But the Tanqueray straight had me."
YOU ARE READING
The Arrangement {Book 1}
General FictionIn this world it's not what you will take up, but what you will give up that will make you rich, but you should remember to never allow yourself to be controlled by money, the past, or people.. After all, for the love of money is the root of all evi...
