Hey, Yo, Yo, Bro'. Poem by Michael Gale

Hey, yo, yo, come on down ta' my neighborhood, 'bro...
Don't acts dumb and stupid, dough.

I won't knows ya if yu be da' fool...
I'll's walks on down da' street if u b uncool and drippity drool.

Hey, yo, yo, pack it up reals tight...
You ain't bright, or rights to fight.

Eyes, likes my finger licken'en rib...
After works i head back ta my crib.

Lickin' ribs kin' require a bib...
Abouts your girlfriends, you's tells yer wife a hole lotta fib.

Eye did'nt no she was at my job...
After wards she slaps my face an she calls me a fat lyin' slob.

How wuz eye ta no dat eye wuz caughts on da show called 'Cheaters'? ...
My feets went crazy an' begun on da side walks ta moves as beaters.

Hey, yo and yo, as my divorse papers wuz cent...
Free at las', thank God I'se free at las', and Heaven scent.