[Pops In"The Cool"] - I have no idea what I'm going to blog about tonight, but I just know I feel like writing. There is a lot on my mind, really, but I don't want to talk about all of that. Ehh, this song Free Chilly reminds me of my dude Young Mal. I swear on my life I miss that nigga so much. Knowing that he won't be free until 2034 is fucking bothering me. It's coming closer and closer to a year since he's been locked up. I know he's missing us just as much as we miss him. I know all this saying "FREE MAL" really isn't helping, but damn it sure does feel good to believe that it does. Anyway, I got my go-go-go-go-go-go-go-go-go-go gadget flow! I love this song, yo. Lupe's CD is fucking nice. My second best album of the 2007 year. Hopefully he'll be up for a grammy next year on this shit, because son's album was ridiculously fly. The concept of the whole album was insane too. Like how can a nigga sleep on this nigga? Lol, even though half of the time what he's saying it's too lyrical for my stupid ass mind to keep up. Sike! Bitch, save your jokes.
So, how was your valentine's day? I hope you had a great fucking day with your lovely ass boyfriends and girlfriends all kissed up. Bitch fuck that, I hope you got burnt or at least got mono or some shit. You know I spent my day? I'll tell you. Every time I saw someone holding hands, I slapped their hands down. When I saw people kissing, I pushed their foreheads back. Yea, when I saw people walking with their arms around each other, I walked between them bitch ass niggas. When I saw balloons, I shot them shits down with a bebe gun. Yep, and when I saw a bitch holding chocolates, I slapped the shit out of her and and stepped on it. I'm the Grinch that stole Valentine's day. Okay, I wish I did that - it would have been better than my boring ass day. I was going to go out with someone today, but I chilled at home for the most part. I've been talking to Juelz young ass for most of the second portion of my day. She just put me up on this dude, uhm - let me go back to her box to see whats this niggas name. Sekou, him. That nigga's an ill poet. Go look up dude on youtube or some shit. Aye, I'm on my mission to be - the coolest nigga, what! This song is hot though. Lol, that was so random. I'm sorry if I confused you. Yo, but back on the poetry tip. I haven't really shown y'all much of what I write. Here's the last thing I wrote.
Intergalactic Love
By: Jay Adams
Shorty, see I ain't got much - but let's get away
To a place where the moon shines and the stars seem to mediate
My emotions back to your heart through the constellations
Staring back up in the sky trying to achieve perfect concentration.
You know the place where no one knows- where we can be free.
Where the breeze blows my words to your ears without a secret to keep.
You see - I think, that you and me can be so fly.
On the wings of our spaceship- baby girl let's fly.
To the furthest star in our galaxy- where I magically
take a piece of that star and turn it into a ring for your finger.
As my thoughts linger through space and time
I take the time to rewind back to the time when I was without you,
Nah, fuck that - fast forward because I don't want to be without you.
Listen shorty, because shortly - we will take out trip
Baby don't forget- to pack light - because in this night
All we need is both of our hearts to ignite
The wick of the rocket so that we may take flight
To the brightest star in sight.
You know the one that's in your eyes, the one that's in your smile.
The one that I grab ahold of to to levitate myself above the ground.
Never to come down - back to the atmosphere if this lonely world.
So through space we hurl- flipping every twist and twirl.
Connecting the dots through every star and every planet we shall meet.
Rearranging the heavens - spelling your name for all to see.
My intergalactic love.
Nah, I really didn't write that to anyone. The poem is just something I was feeling at the time. You know, when you want to feel loved and all that good shit? Yea, I just imagine a female that I'd feel to be my "perfect" woman and I write to her. Not a person in the exactness of a physical manifestation. Just a fantasy, if you so must put a definition to it. Don't get me started on my perfect woman, either. Also, don't tell me that there is no such thing as someone being perfect. I do know that, but I feel a persons imperfections make them perfect. Perfection is to the beholder, not the whole. What may be perfect for me, might not be perfect for you. Sadly, my perfect doesn't exist. I'm not settling for less than what I want either. Ehh, you know what? I'm going to keep this blog short tonight. I know this isn't exactly what you call short; suck a dick.
IFYOUAREWHATYOUSAYYOUAREASUPERSTAR.
Outro.
So, how was your valentine's day? I hope you had a great fucking day with your lovely ass boyfriends and girlfriends all kissed up. Bitch fuck that, I hope you got burnt or at least got mono or some shit. You know I spent my day? I'll tell you. Every time I saw someone holding hands, I slapped their hands down. When I saw people kissing, I pushed their foreheads back. Yea, when I saw people walking with their arms around each other, I walked between them bitch ass niggas. When I saw balloons, I shot them shits down with a bebe gun. Yep, and when I saw a bitch holding chocolates, I slapped the shit out of her and and stepped on it. I'm the Grinch that stole Valentine's day. Okay, I wish I did that - it would have been better than my boring ass day. I was going to go out with someone today, but I chilled at home for the most part. I've been talking to Juelz young ass for most of the second portion of my day. She just put me up on this dude, uhm - let me go back to her box to see whats this niggas name. Sekou, him. That nigga's an ill poet. Go look up dude on youtube or some shit. Aye, I'm on my mission to be - the coolest nigga, what! This song is hot though. Lol, that was so random. I'm sorry if I confused you. Yo, but back on the poetry tip. I haven't really shown y'all much of what I write. Here's the last thing I wrote.
Intergalactic Love
By: Jay Adams
Shorty, see I ain't got much - but let's get away
To a place where the moon shines and the stars seem to mediate
My emotions back to your heart through the constellations
Staring back up in the sky trying to achieve perfect concentration.
You know the place where no one knows- where we can be free.
Where the breeze blows my words to your ears without a secret to keep.
You see - I think, that you and me can be so fly.
On the wings of our spaceship- baby girl let's fly.
To the furthest star in our galaxy- where I magically
take a piece of that star and turn it into a ring for your finger.
As my thoughts linger through space and time
I take the time to rewind back to the time when I was without you,
Nah, fuck that - fast forward because I don't want to be without you.
Listen shorty, because shortly - we will take out trip
Baby don't forget- to pack light - because in this night
All we need is both of our hearts to ignite
The wick of the rocket so that we may take flight
To the brightest star in sight.
You know the one that's in your eyes, the one that's in your smile.
The one that I grab ahold of to to levitate myself above the ground.
Never to come down - back to the atmosphere if this lonely world.
So through space we hurl- flipping every twist and twirl.
Connecting the dots through every star and every planet we shall meet.
Rearranging the heavens - spelling your name for all to see.
My intergalactic love.
Nah, I really didn't write that to anyone. The poem is just something I was feeling at the time. You know, when you want to feel loved and all that good shit? Yea, I just imagine a female that I'd feel to be my "perfect" woman and I write to her. Not a person in the exactness of a physical manifestation. Just a fantasy, if you so must put a definition to it. Don't get me started on my perfect woman, either. Also, don't tell me that there is no such thing as someone being perfect. I do know that, but I feel a persons imperfections make them perfect. Perfection is to the beholder, not the whole. What may be perfect for me, might not be perfect for you. Sadly, my perfect doesn't exist. I'm not settling for less than what I want either. Ehh, you know what? I'm going to keep this blog short tonight. I know this isn't exactly what you call short; suck a dick.
IFYOUAREWHATYOUSAYYOUAREASUPERSTAR.
Outro.
1 comment:
Just passin' by; had to comment on Lupes' CD. Hes' a lyrical genuis, his whole album is tight, and its ridiculous that so many people sleep on him, and rather give people like Soulja Boy more play. But yeah, showin' some love. =]
Post a Comment