Supreme talks about
His baby's mother like a whore.
Sweet 16 she is,
With future uncertain,
Love incomplete.
Soapy days for Jr. and she.
At 3, Supreme comes
To give his boy a pat
And a pound,
Put his hoodie on the couch,
His Timberlands up on the chair
So his bitch can bring him a beer.
So, this is the Nuclear family?
Mommy, baby…
And Daddy makes a mess
Of his baby's mother's hair
As they fuck
'Til her mother comes in
From work.
She's playing house,
He's playing man
And Jr. is the only one
Who accepts he's just a child.
Wild nights she had
With a swish of her stuff,
Knocked up to a waddle,
A baby carriage bustle
And still gets her play.
But her dream is true romance…
Well sorta,
Everyday from 3 to 6.
Supreme leaves out
Before Mommy comes kick
His lazy narrow behind back
Onto the street.
He's not a corner boy.
The bodega in the 40's
Is midblock
Where bullets flock,
No names engraved
And he may be next.
Shielded by the patron
Saint of the brothers.
Being there is all
There is.
Living lovely without
Turning the corner,
Reaching for a swig
Brings sweat to his brow
And shit to his mouth,
Dispelling knowledge on the stuffs,
The pleasing things
The baby's mother do,
Dousing the sidewalk
With wretch of a boy/man,
Breaking Friday night
To seek man/hood
In a paper bag.
Says, «Fatherhood is real cool
And the kid looks like me so
She better not let nothing
Happen to him
Or I’ma kill the bitch.»
Sudden twitch
To the roll of the wheel,
Trained steel stained blue
Puts punk on the wall
For some trumped up call
From precinct 101.
Monday at 3, the baby's mother waits,
Jr. in her arms,
Patiently at the door,
Doesn't know what she misses.
Locked into the routine,
A project queen.
Supreme rode off
Into the sunset
With a 3 to 6 all his own.
Took a week for her to find out,
A minute to promise devotion,
Her life on hold
As Supreme calls
Checking on his boy
(And the baby's mother).
Life on the outside ain't even worth it.
Shit.
Who screwed whom?
There’s not enough room in the pen
For them both
To stay locked into their little worlds
They will.
Leather gear, X skullie, Size 2 Docs.
Man,
Jr.’s the fliest shit in nursery care.
Paid for by W.I.C.,
So who's getting dicked?
Who reigns supreme?
Who reigns supreme?