What’s My Name?

What’s My Name?

You already know who she be. Dressed up, strapped up and tatted up. Girlfriend’s from the block. She could suck the guts out of a pickle, leave nothing but the skin, spit the seeds out and hold the rest in her mouth and wipe her chin. Bandana type wearin, homie she rocked your world, “Look Ma, no hands”. After she finish with em he’d have to change his pants.

(Hold up, let me get at’em). Aight Ma, go get’em…

I’m the girl that doesn’t have or need a job. Don’t ask me how many kids I have unless you’re trying to take care of them. Don’t make me have to son you. Feel me? I love dating, going out and eating fo free. Free .99 daddy. You can hold the tax. Doing the dutch thing, is a chump move on a budget. If you’re counting dollars you must be counting cents. Boy it sure feels good spending your money, shopping at the mall, having lunch with the girls, talking smack ova a bowl of Apple Jacks, in the mornin. No milk. Your whip, wheels spinning as me and the girls look fly as we dip through the streets, leavin your tires bent, leanin on dem rims. You’re bustin your hump at work. Makin dat money Papi fo yo Honey. I dance with Angels but I sleep with Satan disciples. The sin within, the curse before the blessin. Just know I’m laughin at your clown azz right about now cause I’m living the modern day Cinderella life.

(Do you know who I be? I’m gonna let my boy help you out and drop a few bread crumbs fo dat azz. Ayo Brutha, drop some jewels on em).

(Aight, Ma move ova). Let’s see, she was raised in the slums of New York, Lincoln Projects with no view, livin on the 4^th floor with her bum azz, alcoholic father. Her mother cashed out years ago neva looking back. You were hooked on like phonics gassed by the way she stick out her butt and did the bowleg, sexy cat woman, phuck walk strut. She had crazy swag. Your tongue couldn’t talk. Honey made you simple like Simon, American’s own Urban Idol and you were quick to move a chick to the South, a condo in Atlanta, Buckhead District, pimpin on the 30^th floor. Straight out da ratchet life into a gated community. Not bad for a Lil Ghetto chick, on the come up, huh? Mom-Dukes would be proud of a bitch if she could see her lil girl right about now.

Movin forward, she took you by surprise then left you sick, head cracked, hung over, blood drippin holding your dick. She had the ability to change your mind right after you told her, no. She inspects shit while you expect shyt maybe some head. Where’s the balance? You upgrade a hoe, bought her a flat screen 60 inch plus the dish. Before you came in the picture she was squintin lookin at a 13 inch. Who’s da fool? She’s quick to talk and tell all her friends about the phucked up things that you do but is slow to confess, find it easy to forget to tell her peeps about all the dumb shyt she does and what she don’t bring to the table. Sistah aint no fool and mama didn’t raise no dummy. Comon now. What person tells on themselves?

You roll ova horny as hell, she displays the power to the pucci, hands you a jar of lotion now you’re full with emotions. Damn, head down. Homegirl plays for keeps not with creeps. She’ll always have her game face on even when times get rough.

What’s My Name?

(You know me Homie?)

Gatekeeper of the Ivory Tower is who I be. The spy amongst
thee. Yawnin and neva passin da rock, bitch. (Crack head move). Whateva! Think what you want (Ball Hog). Just discover the middle of my Skittle and taste the rainbow (Muah). I’d might return you the flavor. Sike!

What’s My Name?

I’m the type of chick that will ask a man to buy me a three carrot diamond ring knowing good damn well I’ll never buy a diamond that size for myself. In fact, I’m the girl that needs a dummy, I mean a good man that will spoil me and treat me better than I would treat myself because after all lol, I’m worth it. Unless a nicca can suck his own dyck, he better have a long neck. A bitch don’t phuck for free, high school daze are ova. He got to pay if he wants to play. That’s my word. Scared money gets no honey dat’s Harlem rules, Atlantic City news nicca. Listen, his money be my money and my money be my money. Get wit da program. When I’m watchin the Bravo Channel, BET or VH1 you better stay in your lane and not ask me to do shyt or else. When your lips start flappin notice what I’m doing; I’m checking my phone, reading text messages and checking my watch. Cause I really don’t have time for da bullshyt. I don’t do hot air or negativity.

Yo, I know men with a lot of money like to be with many women. Men never make a ton of money just to be with one chick. All I care about is counting his chips and crashing his whip when he act a fool. Just bring it home to Mama and keep your bullshyt out of my face. He can have other girls. I just want da chedda, just wanta spend da cash and put a little aside for a rainy day. Cause there will be a rainy day. Believe dat. If you tryin to knock my hustle and cancel my tax shelter; Therefore it doesn’t make sense for us to get together. Just tell a bitch that you’re broke so I can make other plans. It’s really that simple. If I’m ain’t drivin then its good bye den. If you ain’t workin what I look like twerkin?

(Keep flowin, Ma)

I’m talking Ice cones, snow babies I’m lookin fo Jack Frost. He loves me, maybe not but I’m frost bitten. Its 6 degrees below on the inside and I’m sittin pretty on Iceland Island all year round. Wat! I want to get married, have the nice house with a fence and the little mutt dog and shyt. I just don’t want to put in the necessary hours to earn the position to stay married. You feel me? Oh, you should know I’m quick to throw both of my hands up when things don’t go my way. Who has that kind of patience to hang around and work shyt out? Nahmean! Don’t test me cause the candi shop will close. I bleed fo months. Play yourself and watch me.

What’s My Name?

(Keep blowin)

What’s my name? When your man is not with you it only means he’s with me. Oh BTW he likes melons not berries or mangos. And if you haven’t noticed, these are melons, boo-boo (Dolby surround sound system). Fo daze. Those you’re tryin to boost up like mobile are berries, more like AM transmittin; frequency testers.

As long as this phat azz of mine stay tight. I’m gonna ride it for all it’s worth. Nicca’s act stupid for this kind of booty and a sistah gotta find out. Trust me I know… Look sweetie, time is not on my side and I have to secure my future cause a chick is not getting any younger. Besides I don’t know how long these girls are going to hold up. I can’t afford for them to sag. A girl has to keep her clothes on and hide the cottage cheese and saggin puppy ears as long as possible. She has to play smart before things fall apart. A woman’s body is like Wall Street and a nicca will cash out quick as soon as he thinks her stock is dropping. What fool is going to invest in a declining market that’s losing points?

You know me? I don’t have the time to be in nobodies’ kitchen haven’t you heard the expression “if you can’t stand the heat get the hell out of the kitchen”. I got out a long time ago. I can’t be bothered with massaging anybodies raw meat and mess up my French manicure. Nope not me, I’d rather eat out. Ain’t no dishes to wash when you dine out. Did I mention that I hate cleaning? I don’t iron anybody sheets. I sleep on them. Do I look like your grandma? Step into the 21^st century. I’m not tryin to be like my mother; a lonely, no money havin, living on a fixed income, rent control apartment. Not this bitch. Didn’t you get the memo. What’s your email?

What’s my name?

Harlem,

Heaven is at the foot of Mother…

#longreads, #writing