Until I have a chance to write my own bad poetry, I shall entertain you with a choice selection from yesteryear. Ice, ice, baby, indeed.
"... Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly ..."
" ... Dance go rush to the speaker that booms
I'm killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom ..."
"... Jealous 'cause I'm out getting mine
Shay with a guage and Vanilla with a nine ..."
"... Take heed 'cause I'm a lyrical poet ..."
"... 'Cause my style's like a chemical spill ..."
"... If there was a problem, yo -- Ill solve it!
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it. ..."
1 comment:
Yuck. Even the Vogons wouldn't enjoy that. Bad Poetry indeed.
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