By: Mia L. Hazlett
You just a baby momma,
Dats right, dats who you is.
No, let me enlighten you,
The last name is my husband’s as well as our kids.
Well hopefully you can help a brotha out
I need a hook-up for a payin’ gig.
I wish I could help you out with that,
But you can’t call my boss your nig.
Yo, why you be talkin’ like dat?
Dats why my peeps be givin’ you looks.
Allow not a mind to be lost,
It’s not too late to open a book.
So what you tryin’ to say,
Da house and car is all yours?
You spend all your time labeling me,
But my education opened many doors.
You ever come off your pedestal,
Or is it you can’t deal with all my swag?
I think you need to act like a man
And get rid of the jeans that knee-sag.
Chicks like you be thinkin’ your better than us,
And be givin’ brothas a bad name.
You want to know why you’re alone and unwed?
Here’s a mirror, he’s to blame.
© 2013 Mia L. Hazlett