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Spoken Word Artist
by
O’hene Savant
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Can’t believe my baby left me for a cat with incense and beeswax A spoken word artist Damn Could it have been the dreads? Neatly twisted as it hung from his head Breezed and [?] the way it swung as he said those clever similes without breaking a sweat I’m however drenched, heavily perspiring Seeing her eyeing him and admiring I felt like a damn fool in that cafe I swear I should have took her to the movies on that day What was I thinking? She ain’t evеn like spoken word I brought it up once, thе woman was so perturbed She said those on that neo-soul disturbed Eating all that tofu and smoking herb Then all of a sudden she got so concerned with the poet’s words showing up in the open shirt Sometimes I feel like I’m over her But I go berserk every time I hear spoken word Spoken word artist Got my baby And she’s not coming back No, she not, you know why? ‘cause she left me for a Spoken word artist And that’s messed up ‘cause I know that She’s not coming back She ain’t coming back My baby left me for a Damn metaphors I knew exactly what he was tryna get across I saw goosebumps on her arm as she listened Screamed “keep on” and he listened On with the rhythm, [?] and pauses Jesus, it’s awkward, it feels like a scene in a porn flick ‘cause there’s a guy in the back with a sax His touch is seductive, his hat to the back Shirt matching his slacks Cat was just phat All these candles, I feel like I’m back in the sack Anyway, back to this cat that’s tryna get his mack on He had on a turtleneck, a back jawn His pants torn, my bad, it was denim Whatever shoes he had, it went well with him ‘cause my girl told me this on the ride back home And how much she admired that poem Now she’s gone ‘cause Spoken word artist Will steal your girl if you let him and now She’s not coming back I know she ain’t coming back, she left me for a Spoken word artist I really can’t get over it ‘cause I know That she’s not coming back She ain’t coming back My baby left me for a The moral of the story is He had no morals with his corny twist and his punchlines He just mad that he unsigned and he’s confined to a small club nobody will come find Selling poems for a dollar a page Are you a scholar or sage on a bottle of haze? Nah, O Alright, yo, I’m not gonna hate But if I see him on the streets, I’m not gonna say Lost out to a Spoken word artist I don’t understand it but I know That she’s not coming back Pretty much is gone, she’s gone Spoken word artist Came and took my woman And she’s not coming back I know the deal My baby left me for a Now let him tell it, his words were like the breeze Because he had read a few books on his heritage Now all of a sudden, he wants the respect of a lyricist Are you hearing this? Man, shut up
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