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Does this describe anyone you know?
From homie to homie she made her pact, floating around the neighborhood like she was all that.
From sun up to sun down she made her rounds, there wasn't a corner she couldn't be found.
Her agenda was direct and perfectly clear, watch out for your man because the hood rat was here.
She wore skimpy tops, stilettos and minnie skirts in the dead of winter, sat on wooden benches without getting a splinter,
legs always crossed like she was the queen of sheba, in stretch pants patterned for a domestic zebra.
Her hair all over the place, disgust anyone to look directly in her face, that smile, a magnificent thing to see, with all those spaces gravitating where teeth use to be.
Her hunger for sex and drugs was phenominally ferocious, and worser on those who had to smell that halitosis.
She moved around the neighborhood like a track star, bobbing and weaving like she was a movie star.
Never got sick and nobody could understand, thats because she was always at the free clinic with someone elses man.
But the wonderful thing about the hood rat, she exposed all those hood cats walking around pretending to be all that.
This piece is a humorous thought about a fallen queen, roaming her neighborhood on fallen dreams.