Rappin Fo My Man

Quick, to the point, to the point no fakin',
Cookin' other poets like a pound of bacon,
Today I'm playin' don't feel much like thinkin',
But some of these fools make me think about drinkin',
Outta my way cuz I'm tryna be happy,
Diggin' on my man ' cuz he calls my boys Slappy,
He always makes me laugh with his wicked fly puns,
He switches out the kegs and he slaps my buns,
We never like to front, always keepin' it real,
We be laughin' at the sycophants hidin' how they feel,
Tryna wag their jaws tellin' us to be better,
My man always says I'm gonna write an angry letter,
Set a brother straight sayin' betta back up off me,
You can't compete with this, dude we grind our own coffee,
Yo my man is such a chef he wears a Darth Vader apron,
He's got those emerald eyes but his ass is Taken!
Don't even try to be us cuz you wouldn't understand,
How a brother makes these pickles with his very own hand,
His kitchen is bespoke and our life is all planned,
Lay off me with the sunscreen cuz he likes my arms tanned!
We don't like your rules and the way you spend your time,
Your broom handle's up your ass while we be drinkin' our wine.
We only come around once so learn to say it, "WHO CARES?"
Like he told me from the start, "respect the Man Upstairs!"
I knew we'd stay together cuz fun guys are hard to find,
Tight-ass losers make me sick, but my baby blows my mind!