Monday, April 03, 2006

Honey Dip

So my Jim Jones, uh, addiction, for lack of a better word, I guess is still going strong. I don't know what it is but I listen to that album every single day since I bought it. Literally. I bought it in like, December, and I still gets down with it at least twice a day. What is that about? I'm not sure exactly. I guess he's good when I'm pissed (which is my normal mood) cuz when I put him on real loud in the headphones I feel a lot better.
(I ain't on some hubby shit, that lovey dovey shit) Sorry, will be quoting random Honey Dip lyrics as this post progresses. So speaking of honey dips, I ain't seen mine in what is a slow forever. I know he's working, but come the fuck on. I haven't seen him in like two going on three weeks. I spoke to him on the phone but the last time I spoke to him was like fuckin Wednesday. I told him to call (Plus she know every Santana song and she don't mind puttin this damn bandanna on) me at midnight and his ass couldn't do that. So I call him and he ain't answering his damn phone. What the fuck am I supposed-Hold on, before I get pissed. Woosa...(Flipped open the horn like where's my honey dip?)
I don't like this don't-stay-in contact-wit-ya-shorty shit. That ain't my steelo. Now I ain't the type of bitch to flip if you don't call for a day or two but when you go from talkin to your man every night to not seeing him for days at a time and not even having a fucking attempt at a goddamn phone call (Who's flyer when I step in got em spyin every second cuz that 0-6 charger remind em of a seven) you get kinda pissed.
(I got me a lovely chick, I got me a slutty chick, I got em all but my favorite one is my honey dip, she get drunk wit me, roll the piff up wit me, throw singles at other hos in the strip club wit me)
Speakin of fucked up shit, guess who in red hell called me the other night? You're right if you thought Mr. PPV. With his triflin ass. Called me like we're still people's and shit. I told his bitch ass I don't do the disappearing act shit. (See, the same is for L but I am actually feelin this nigga enough to give a shit whether we're together or not; Yes ma'am I'm so fresh the pro mess with bread honey, my jeans eight hundred these are called Red Monkey) So he's like hey what's up, I thought it was this nigga Steff but then I was like wait he don't know my real name and their voices sound a hella lot alike.
PPV: Hey how are you?
J: I'm good, you?
PPV: Are you busy?
J: Well, I'm eating.
PPV: Oh, okay. I just wanted to call and touch base with you, I know we haven't spoken in a while.
J: (dripping with sarcasm) Sure haven't.
(When I'm dippin on the grind I get my money quick, but sometimes I wanna lay up with my honey dip)
PPV: Yeah, I took a two month leave of absence, I had to go down South and take care of some things. I couldn't remember your number for shit.
J: Huh. (I wanted to ask him who he was fuckin down there, cuz he sure be down there alot)
PPV: (now his ass is nervous) Well have you moved on? Have you found somebody new?
Sidebar: For the very first time I didn't know what to say. I'm gonna be real with ya'll; I hooked up with L about three days after I last saw PPV and I haven't given his ass a second thought since then. I was tempted to say damn right muthafucka! But my mama happened to be sitting right next to me and I didn't deem it appropriate at the time. So I gave the ambiguous answer:
J: We'll talk.
PPV: Oh okay. So um, let me call you back tomorrow afternoon.
J: Okay, I'll talk to you then.
Needless to say I'm still waiting on that phone call. (And bitch, fuck your man tonight, you know my steelo, sizzurp wit the the Cristal, the corners playin Ceelo, you see me, well you just smile, you know we on the lee-low, or whippin thru the town like we ballin up a kilo)
Niggas is so fuckin shady.
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm wit my honey dip.


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11:42 AM  
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10:46 PM  

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Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing