Review Summary: I got the blow, now move it, or ill drink your merlot.
I take you back to a time when the Wade sons be livin' still together in the forest. I be their father, I am Pluto Wade. My sons, I am proud of them dearly. But I smell something on the wind like its sunday morning bell ringing. Somethings comin', rollin' right on down the tracks. All my boys, thirty in all, are havin' a blast with their women. But that Bevaun Lenton, my fifteenth son, the middle man, have no bitch to keep up his hood. Appearances are important, drift?
There was a dark alley. The steel vault doors were swingin' open, my mouth was agape. A dark shadow was moving forth. Ah nah, it b Darius Wade!
“Natalie Johnson, where da *** is your ass? Listen up, the tongue of father Wade speaks! You smell that ***? Those ***in trumpets? This forest be our only stronghold against the forces of this. I'm losin' sales, and I smell some ***ty pants in the wind. Hahaha, nah, it dont think it b Dejohn this time, ah nah, I dont even know where his ass is at! But back to business, I'm losing sales, I tell no tales. Maybe my lips are getting stiff after all...”
“Ah nah, father Wade, you just need a break!”
At this his eyes were wide. He looked up in discretion, saw the ho in her glory, and said dis-
“Bevaun Lenton, the best rapper in the kingdom, professional, money launderer, thief, crook, cook, dentist(drift?), enough gold to melt into Jazz Mountain? Ah nah. HE CAN DO THIS. Go, *** his ass and get his grill outta lyrics. Bout time, if you ask me.”
She went, greeted some sons, and got into Bevauns pad. He was asleep.
“Get yo ass up, son” said Natalie.
He was drowsy, but managed to say,
“*** yo ass, flap your puss lips at someone elses dick.”
“Pluto Wade wants speak!”
At this he sprang.
“Father Wade? Damnnn.”
“Yeah, hes been hearing the trumpets calling. Darius Wade records are back, he aint dead.” said Natalie.
“Ah nah.” His eyes drifted downward, mouth gaping.
“I was told to suck your penis.” said Natalie.
“Ight” simple as that, to a Wade son.
He was on his way to Pluto Wades lagoon, when Finley Adams came outta nowhere. He was swirling wine in his hand with the daintiness and precision of a master. He could turntable with wine in both hands, some say. His sunglasses were tilted down, and he looked above them and said to Lenton,
“The path ain't safe. You know the rules, gun for blood, blow for nerves.”
“I don't have time, you wine swirling nigga!”
“Ah nah” he waved his finger and turned his back, Adams did.
I was lookin for a gun and some blow, but my old bitch came outta the barn to greet me.
“Sarah Bellic! Good to see you” he slapped her butt.
“Wait.. you gotta ho now? Damnn, leave me a piece! Haha” she said, but a hint of scorn was in her voice.
She added promptly, “I guess you be accepted an all, into the circle, with a ho and all. But I'm makin a balonoga sanwich, and I got none for you. An whats this about Pluto Wade? You getting another chance to rap battle the father? When is it tonight? The barn?”
“Ah nah, this is a private meeting, in other words, not for a bitch” her showed her what Lemmy thinks.
I went into Dexter Philip's house. When you get an itch, hes got the scratch. When your feeling tickled, he'll make you feeling fickled. When you a bitch, hell make a batch.
“Hey brother! Long time no see, but nuff said, you know why im here.”
“Want me to throw you a bone? I dont like your tone.”
“Give me my *** or I'll be throwing a fit.” said Bevaun, dancing.
“I'd say from the way you be hot, you'd be looking for some pot.
But when I see you with a ho, I know you wanting blow.”
“Good guess, but this ain't chess. Lest you be king, (god knows you late)
I recollect, that this be STALEMATE”
“A wave of the finger, dont make me budge,
but with rhymes like that, I can't hold a grudge!”
He pushed forward the blow. I didn't think he had the means to spill my beans no how. Dexter Philips is a bad egg since birth, cop an attitude, attitude a cop. No man bring him down. Dexter be in the drug sale since day one, son. No pun intended, this rap has ended.
So now all I need is a gun, then ill have some fun. Hmmmm, I'LL STEAL THE ***. Ah yeah, old Massey Johnson, living on the edge of the forest, swing fan, got no place for him to sell a record except for BING yo. Even his Craigslist got missed. His place be boobytrapped to high hell. But 'Ill Manage.
“I got the gun, I got the blow, now move it, or ill drink your merlot.”
Finley Adams waved his fingers and turned his back, swirling wine. I ignored his ass and went on to Plutos lagoon.
