Corey Threet

Rookie - 0 Points (Buffalo, New york)

Xeniyah Presents: His Story: The Getaway (C) 2-2-10 - Poem by Corey Threet

Ring ring from the I Phone it was my homie
I guess he bouta pick us up and that’s cool we feelin lonely
It was just me and my nigga that I met at the game
He was cool we started to kick it but I knew he was lame
He got an all black Grand am with tinted windows and red seats
His voice was low and didn’t speak much and whatever he said creeps
Twenty minutes fly past and I’m callin this nigga just dial tone
This dude only around the corner he actin like it’s a mile zone
Then he beeped the horn and we hopped in the car
My mans comin with us if we not goin to far
He shook his head but not even a breath came out of his mouth
In the back of my head I kept havin this same doubt but we out
I noticed in his lap he had his glock sittin right there
Now I knew somethin was fishy but I really don’t care
But I asked him what was goin on and he gave me the run down
We gotta kill this nigga getaway so here you gotta hold this gun down
Yo boy in the back, I hope he can drive cause he gotta be our wheelman
So basically twenty G’s for us if we go in this house and kill man
Not a word after he said whatever but he was just mutterin
But I’m thinkin why when this nigga talk it sound like he stutterin
His hands is shakin and he actin like he never did this before
We stopped to get some gas but he was shakin when he opened the door
So he gave me his gun but I keep one tucked at all times anyway
Cause see me I’m bout ready to bag a body any day
He got back in the car sweatin like he mined the place
Starin into the street blank like his mind erased
Twenty thousand bones, I was feelin it he said he would cut it
We did this before so it was nothin I couldn’t put up with
Crackin jokes in the car but he aint even give me a giggle
He mad stressed out and when he lie his body just wiggle
Now he squirmin sweating and its below twenty outside
He spoke out a plan he’ll drive and Dame you comin inside
He already said that but whatever its been a minute since we did this
I lit the blunt and then passed to see if he would hit it and he didn’t
Now I know he aint settin me up naw maybe I’m trippin
He grabbed the vodka from under the seat and crazy he sippin
Look like he bouta guzzle down the whole joint without passin it here
I know he a diabetic and all but his sugar level’s passin his ear
He pulled in this driveway and we waited a minute
I’m ready to go kill this nigga and the money I’ll get it
Ma man in the back seat got out the car and waited to get in the front
He loadin his gun but it felt like he was takin a month
See now I’m getting a feelin that it’s somebody I’m killin
I’m chillin like a villain but I know this nigga was grillin
Me the riddlin and penicillin got him illin you feelin me
This is ma nigga but he makin me feel a little uneasy
Well we just gon go on in this house hopefully it all go down breezy
He finally opens the door and I know its him I can trust now
We bouta walk up in this house and somebody bouta get bust down


Comments about Xeniyah Presents: His Story: The Getaway (C) 2-2-10 by Corey Threet

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Poem Edited: Tuesday, February 2, 2010


[Report Error]