My N****s

When you don't have a pot to piss in, just can't throw it out,
you've ever had these struggles then you know just what it's bout,
but if you're blessed with peoples maybe just a chosen few,
who have your back and still would never hold it over you.

I call those few my real n****s; my brothers bound by blood,
these cats are whom I'd ride for if they're taken down by slugs,
but God forbid cause then the perpretratin clowns are fucked,
I'm loyal but insane to make a city drown in blood.

My n****s are the ones who'll feed me when I don't got s**t,
who'll pass me off a drink; my mouth is dry; I don't got spit,
the ones I know who's love for me endures like savage rain,
these dudes are thoroughbred and never actin like a Dame.

I count 'em on a single hand and that's where things'll stand,
I love these n****s; if I'm ever blessed to be the man,
these dudes are eatin with me; off a giant plate we'll share,
for if I really need em y'all, my n****s, they'll be there.

©2013
The Cunning Linguist

Author's Note

I wrote this piece in dedication to those few friends of mine who got my back no matter what.