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Ponce

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Rest In Peace [08 Jan 2005|12:38pm]
It’s not right this town and school is all hype, it’s my life. Recently I’ve been crying myself to sleep all night. I’m stuck in hell my hands and feet stuck to the wall with nails, I’m in jail, there’s no bail, there’s no wall to scale. Thinking of quitting it might be time to set sail. Slowly walking away with my new Adidas when I bought them they were on sale. I never thought I would drop to my knees but I did so let me tell the tale. I just lost one of the most beautiful people in the world; she was only 21, living her life to the fullest, always having fun. On her own in the Chi, she could have had her pick from the top notch type of guys, could have been a model, body like a coca cola bottle, it’s no lie she was supa dupa Missy Elliot fly. The type of girl you could look at and catch a permanent high, with you in my world girl I was on a permanent high, but now that you’re gone girl I have to keep drying my eyes. It’s ashame this world is so lame there’s people out there that think life is just another game, but it’s not it brings pain with little to gain. This murdering mother fucker must be loco heading to Mexico. I thought neighbors suppose to be friends, suppose to be protecting the casa that we live in. Didn’t you read the bible fool, murdering is listed as a horrible sin. What about her kin, you know her little sister and brother you left behind, now a torn apart mother and father. You probably didn’t even blink let alone stop to think. This world is weak, we can’t come together so fuck it I’m secluding myself until I’m gone, cause none of you fools can act right, and none of you fools can live life, and have remorse for anyone besides yourself. I hate you fools who are always about yourself and wealth, that’s not what life, is. It’s about handling your biz and making sure your neighbor next to you is ok and handling his. I’m having a new out look on life two friends down in less then six months. What the fuck should I do I’m continually losing my crew. Lessons are being learned the ones that I thought I already knew. In 2004 to 2005 the new color is blue, cause I’m pissed ignorance is bliss racism is at the top of the list, don’t be stupid you get the mother fucking gist, I think I could fix it all if I could have just one wish.

R.I.P. Peter Berry
Melissa Dorner
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[21 Dec 2004|10:59pm]
ONE TRUE POET
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Lights on? [22 Nov 2004|06:01pm]
[ mood | artistic ]
[ music | non but I have been listening to Eminem non stop! ]

This is that shit, fuck you fool, get big with it, and suck on this dick. Got you bitches rubbing your clits, while I’m fucking your tits and taking shits all over your chest. I’m making a mess, but I don’t give a fuck, I must confess, if I did I’d just hate fuck your ass and put that pussy to the test. Lyrically I’m the best, so separate me from the rest. Fuck with me go ahead be my guest. My lyrics are like bullets, so my advice to you is to get a vest or two. And don’t send a boy to do a man’s job. I’ll eat that bitch up like corn on the cob. I won’t stop, when he wakes he’ll think he just got jumped by the crew with the mop tops, but it’s just me, Ponce D. Lyrically the dopest A I M C. You tried fucking with me, so I started fucking with you times three, you had it coming it was only a matter of time, before I had a light bulb light up my mind. I opened up my eyes; I’m blind from being to kind with these soft mushy ass rhymes. So I stopped that shit like my man Ray, on the ice, likes stopping on dimes at full speed with no where to go. You’re too slow, had me confused I’ve never seen a dick be a hoe. So just pass me the baby powder coward, you fucking pussy you don’t believe me pull down your pants and take a look see. So here we go, he’s screaming, “OH NO, I belong is a freak show, You fucking bastard you took my MO JO and now I see you all hugged up with my girl JO JO. Damn bitch you’re nothing but a HOE HOE.” So I say, “Take it easy JOHN DOE, stay calm but first, empty out your pockets and get me that DOUGH THOUGH. Be easy guy remove your hands from your pockets REAL SLOW.” Fuck I’m shaking and nervous so I squeeze the trigger and let the HAMMER GO. Opps, I’m sorry, but out your head your BRAINS BLOW. So lights out bitch, there go the end of YOUR SHOW.

Lights Out Chump
Simply some Hot shit.
-Poetry by Ponce

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How you like that? [18 Nov 2004|04:27pm]
[ mood | exhausted ]
[ music | nothing but my soul ]

Well I guess I just can’t get enough of this poetry shit. I guess I must be a poet that’s hip and if I’m not hip, I’m still content with me being me. Finally opened up my eyes cause my heart was unable to see. I’m past you see, you're as clear as a pain of glass to me. This is the present I was living in the past Gee. Recently my head was so fogged and clogged up; I couldn’t even think to write this dope poetry. But let’s get back to the point at hand. Where's my boys, my dogs, my crew. The crew at NEC that do what they do, saying fuck it to all of you. The type of crew that would only waste a beer when it’s poured all over you, but is that really wasting brew, or did you get what you had coming to you. Ha ha me chasing you, get real, I’m through, so fuck you. And if you think you’re grown, listen up, while I toss you a bone. Being grown won’t happen over night, it’s what happens in the struggles of life. It’s what you learn while you’re living your life, it’s the love that you give. It’s the attitude you leave at the crib, it’s the immaturity that went away with the baby bib, but you can still be mature and act like a little kid. I know, cause that’s me, a 23 year old big kid. Finally realized that playing games aren’t really playing games but more like just hurting the feelings of dames, and it’s a shame that I did that shit throughout high school, but what can I say you live and you learn, I was a young fool, so cool, but now I know that shit was not cool. So I guess I graduated into some new shit, some grown up old man trying to be real with chicks shit, but I’m noticing some of you just plan and simple can’t handle it. I’m the type of brother to invite you over for dinner and have the candles lit. Rub your legs and back and shit. The type of person that would gladly take care of you when your laying in bed sick, even if you and I were not vibing and shit. I’m truly legit. I’m a boy without the mind games, I could hold your heart and you’d never feel the pain, not a wild beast but I’m tamed, much like a house cat, that cuddles and lays on it’s back. So here it is the truth about the facts, you gave me the green light, so I’m gone, how you like that?

How you like that?
-Poetry by Ponce

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Feeling alone, is it anything like this? [18 Nov 2004|02:18am]
[ mood | Alone ]
[ music | None but I did listen to Eminem for 9 hours. ]

I’ve never felt so alone, I’ve never wanted to actually go home from being home sick, but right now, that’s how it is. I’m sick of not sharing my bed, I sick of not having a hot female to rub my head, but that’s the way it is. I feel like the only bird in the sky, the only car on the highway, at mid day, what more can I say, but I’m alone, with no cellular phone, a true gangster without his chrome. It’s like going to a party alone and getting circled up and jumped. This is the feeling I have the feeling of a man not having his other half. You do the math; one and one makes two, but one and zero makes, just you with no one to turn to. I feel like a bitch with no pimp or rather a pimp with no bitch, but either way it goes I’m still completely alone. Urging for a way home, maybe not physically, but mentally I need to get some shit off my dome. As I step out of my zone I realize damn Del this is a hot poem. Or maybe I need to start walking around with my head phones and just tweaking the fuck out. And it’s no doubt, I’m the nigga that heard the tree fall and it made a sound. I’m the nigga that gets skipped out from getting pounds. I’m the nigga that gets shot up and hit with all rounds and every round hit the crown. I’m like one finger on a hand; I’m like a Blackman getting a tan. I’m like Mario Lemieux on a break away. I need to break away from this feeling of feeling alone. So here they are lyrics fresh off the dome, fresh from my hearts home so it’s the truth, that’s how I feel, it’s no lie, but right now I feel like a truly lonely guy.

Eminem’s new shit is hot as hell.
-Poetry by Ponce

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What if she was the one? [03 Nov 2004|01:40pm]
[ mood | peaceful ]
[ music | Beats from my heart and sole. ]

So I say fuck it, lets go eye for an eye tooth for a tooth. Let’s go for a lie for a lie truth for a truth. I don’t give a fuck anymore to old for playing games cause I’m past my youth. This poetry shit is nothing but speaking the truth. If you wanted a boy you should of told me so I could go back to spitting my game in the booth. It got hot as fuck but I like swimming in soup. So cold on a winter day I got the top dropped in the coupe. And fuck diamonds cause I like rocking the hoops. Number one role model is this game has to be Snoop. Take your hands out your pockets bitch cause I’m snatching your loot. Get at me dog cock it back and be ready to shoot. Shit, we can settle this shit on the court cause I’m always ready to hoop. You got me running in loops like I’m a fucking circus clown. You got me riding your shit like a fucking rodeo clown. I guess I was wrong but I thought you were down. I gave you my heart and you just tossed it around. Once was lost but now am found. Fuck the bell I’m throwing in the towel you can have this round. Cause I guess I wasn’t prepared for a title bout, I wasn’t prepared to have to scream and shout. Ponce is a very calm and patient man and that’s no doubt. Shit, but fucking with you is worse then watching grass grow. It’s worse then not smoking and watching the blunt burn slow. I wouldn’t care about shit if I thought you were a hoe but who knows. That’s just the way love and life goes. And before hoes I must always put my bro’s. In a dark room girl you know I ‘m trying to take off them clothes. And this isn’t just poetry it’s poetry that flows. So dope I got you wiping off you nose. You’re the flower in my garden, the prettiest of rose. They say the truth hurts but I say a lie is ten times worse. With lies niggas get escorted down the street in a hearse. Once you start a lie it’s never done, it becomes a curse. So don’t lie, just tell me what’s on your mind, and if it’s on your mind, its ok, I’ll be fine, just give me some time to unwind. Ponce is back on the grind, back to sipping margaritas with lime. And it’s true I can’t see cause love is blind. Let a rotund ass step in front of me and I’m smacking the hell out of that behind. Ponce is back niggas; it’s my time to shine.

What if she was the one?
I would have had to smack that bitch with some baby powder and told her to act right. lol
-Poetry by Ponce

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Switching styles. [19 Oct 2004|03:29pm]
[ mood | happy ]
[ music | sounds and beats in my head. ]

So I guess we live and we learn, we roll it up and then burn, pass to the left it’s your turn, you pass it up I’m concerned. You’re not a snake you’re a worm, what’s your condition and terms, so let’s get down and get busy. I got the Goose and the Hennessey, also Jack Daniels from Tennessee. Shot for shot can you handle me? Not many people can fuck with D. Too many pussies and wannabe’s, too many dick riding Emcee’s. Don’t you fake nigga's fuck with me. Too many bitches that cluck you see. Can’t stop the clucking surrounding me. Females from Chicago keep hounding me. Vibrating cell phone on constantly. This poem shits like free therapy, much like my photography. There’s a true art inside of me. I switch styles in poetry straight before your eyes. You think this shit false but my poetry never tells lies. It’s deep and it separates me from the normal average guys. That’s why your girls on me cause talking to you made her break out in hives. The shit I spit is defiantly changing many more lives. Shit is so cold I’m starting to steal your wives. Lyrics so sharp I’ll cut you without using knives. All tens across the board and I haven’t taken my first dive. What I feel is the feeling of being alive. I live life knowing I’m ready to strive until I die. Until those beautiful angels fly me up into the sky. I don’t know what you thought but pussy is better then American warm apple pie. That’s why I take my time eating it, so good I’d probably sleep in it. If it was a fruit you’d see me squeezing it for juice and shit. Body so fine I’m licking it from the tip of the tit to the edge of the clit. And don’t front cause you ladies know that you love the dick. All shapes and sizes you can have your pick, but pick wisely cause some of these guys be in disguise you see. Trying to hide the fact that they got STD’s, shit’s bubbling out of there penis screaming HIV. You hoes know what I’m talking about if you go to SPD. And it’s a threshold for a contaminated hole when you go to a Sorority, but who knows what’s true, I just say this shit for dope poetry.

Switching styles to dangerous.
-Poetry by Ponce

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Ashlaholic anonomous! [17 Oct 2004|02:05pm]
[ mood | okay ]
[ music | The sounds in my head ]

They say real recognize real and truthfully that’s how I feel, but sometimes how I feel is truthfully never the deal. When I speak it’s only cause I’m keeping it real. I thought we spoke on this shit that’s why the envelope was sealed. You got me feeling naked as fuck like an orange without the peal. I don’t move in stealth mode so don’t call me a navy seal. So frustrated that I’m ready to keel over, kneel over my grave and fall face first into the dirt, I’m hurt. I’d rather you stab me in the back but wait for me to take off my shirt. You look good and you know I don’t fuck with the skirt, it’s just you, my boo, you should have known, I thought you knew. That’s fucked up and now inside I’m feeling all different shades of blue. Your better then that, that’s why I put you on status as most important just like my crew. You think that I’m not here but I’m constantly here for you, but where are you. All you do is do what you do. You totally forget about Ponce after you down your brew, but that’s cool everyday I slowly recognize that I’m being a fool, but that’s cool that everyday I don’t see your ass before during or even after school, but that’s cool cause once you take off your clothes I’m definitely gonna have to drool, but that’s cool you can jump on this dick and pretend it’s a power tool, but it’s not cool to have you constantly reeling me back in. This isn’t a game, you can’t win, and if you can’t win that means that you can’t lose, it’s your turn you have to choose. So it’s either all or none, solo is good but deuces are havin fun. So the balls in your court, take a shot don’t run, we could still be having much more fun.

What the fuck is a Ashlaholic?

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[14 Oct 2004|11:54am]
what
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Poems [14 Oct 2004|09:05am]
I read these and I thought they should be read by others. These are writings by Becky Shore.

A life without words, a soundless existence spent alone, the dark cave of emotions I have found myself in is cold and deep. Lacking light and beauty all I see is darkness. Knowing I can come out when I want but seemly stuck there for eternity. The only comfort is knowing there is something else. The only strength I have is my own consciousness, and my fear. How can fear be comfort, how can we rest on something so unsupportive, something so fallible. When the light finds its way in it is only a flicker nothing more than an imaginative glow that dissipates quickly and is more like a mirage. No one can understand or ever enter my cave for admittance is strictly forbidden and no one is aware of its being. The reality is the storm that comes in my cave that haunts my thoughts and never allows me more than a moment, than a glimmer of happiness. The depression that put me here grows and grows like a plant with no seed, no start, no birth, just is. The explanation is always flawed and somehow completely inaccurate, leaving the listener confused and still somehow sympathetic. Wanting to understand what it is that is being described but knowing the impossibility. Education only adds to the blackness of the dingy cave, it makes thoughts more complex and harder to ignore. It makes the winds blow harder and the cave deeper. Until the abyss of my emotions is a black hole surrounding my life, the cave falls through the earth. And we are left with emptiness.

-Becky Shore

The Smile
His smile is like the flame from a candle it flickers and enchants.
He knows not of the power of his happiness.
It is always something that just happens, he never plans to smile and never admits when he is. She, She loves his smile, she loves his frown, she loves him. She never smiles much anymore, except with him when she knows he’s not looking. Because knowing she’s smiling makes her defeated somehow, although she knows her feelings she will never give in. His smile is something that can lift her up from the dark shadows of despair. Something that is like a break from the storm and a rainbow after a hard rain. This is why it is love, this is why he is all she can think of. The way he uses the tip of his finger to brush the hair behind his ear and she plays with the ends of her’s. They are in tune without knowing, like a band playing together for the first time. There body language is dancing as they talk. From here there seems only good things, up here no one can bring her down.

-Becky Shore

You got mad talant kid.
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Yo yiggity yo yo [10 Oct 2004|09:56am]
[ mood | rejected ]
[ music | Slim ]

Yo, yo, yo, this shit is on the real what the deal is. On the real what’s the bizness. We suppose to be boys not toys y’all hoes just some decoys. Trying to fuck with the chi town crew, y’all know how we do. Number on the jersey rocking number two. And if you read this shit, you should know its true, I’m no pussy that just jokes around, might be a live wire a true fucking clown. So where’s the dap, cause I throwing you pounds. If you cross me I’m emptying clips and letting off rounds, I don’t give a fuck we could be in the center of town at high noon. Death will be calling your puck pussy chump ass soon. I’m like Gully my rhymes will kill you like a sonic boom. I’m Ponce putting the last nail into your tomb. Remember me cause I’m the reason you were sent to your doom. Don’t get comfortable cause your next room is a pine box, test me I put it on my locks, I got both chromes cocked and ready to pop. I’ll keep pulling the trigger even if the barrel is too hot. That’s how a pimp like Ponce does it, I bust it, you can trust it, when I squeeze niggas get on their knees and pray. It’s amazing what some niggas say. So I put the glock to your temple, squeeze and bust you head open like a pimple, it’ s that simple. You dieing won’t even cause a ripple in my waves, this poetry shit is how I pave ways.

Yo yiggity yo yo

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Whats the deal? [06 Oct 2004|10:16pm]
[ mood | stressed ]
[ music | my mind ]

Who got next in this microphone game, could it be you the bitch nigga I call a lame, and it’s a shame to waste this poetry shit on a disappointment but right now this is my only appointment that I could get. Right about now I can’t help it but I am ready to flip. So close I was ready to throw in all my chips, but she said slow down, and a sudden pause stumbled from my brain to the tips of lips. I feel like a boulder just dropped from the sky and crush both of my hips. Fuck it I’m Ponce the nigga who flips scripts, the nigga that sinks ships and steals tips. So what can I do except to stay in that game it’s that simple and plain, my mom always told me son life is no game, you can break hearts and it can supply the worst pain. My moms words to me act just like a cane, they prevent me from acting retarded and going insane. Right now I’m wet from feeling the rain, but I know the sun is soon to show and once it does I am soon to blow cause I know the true deal. It’s all about real recognizing real but sometimes the heart gets in the way and confuses the way I feel. This is my truth so to you I ask what’s the mother fucking deal.

What’s the deal?

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I got this on lock [28 Sep 2004|11:21pm]
[ mood | creative ]
[ music | None, it's all in my mind ]

I thought I told you this poetry is no joke. Got you hoes digging out your pockets until you go broke. Ponce is in this game for life and playing to win. A true pimp cause I came from pimping kin. And God must be a pimp cause I ain’t never heard of pimping ever being a sin. So by pimpin you hoes I know that I’ll never be eating dinner in the devils den. I know what your thinking here this nigga goes again; keep thinking that shit and all your body parts will end up in a separate bin. So fuck cloud nine cause I’m raisin this shit to ten and if I’m on the lacrosse field I’m passing it to Ben. And if I don’t have the ball I’ll be ready to pop, crack the bucket on your mop, and how you walk off the field is more like a hobble not a hop. I’m fucking your bitch and you can raise my son like a crop. Not even Bisel could battle me that’s why he had to stop. Just face it I got all you bitches and this rap game on permanent lock

Game and bitches on lock.

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Who Knows? [17 Sep 2004|08:30pm]
[ mood | bored ]
[ music | Jay-z ]

Well here I go, ready to flow, ready to show all you chicken heads how I know, you’re all sluts getting fucked in the butt you stank ass hoes. Can’t pull my shit out unless I plug my nose, and who knows, you might have a toxic whole so without a rubber you cannot be jumping on this pole, and when you do dance on that shit act like you got to much sole, but wait until I’m strapped otherwise I’m jumping off that shit like I was sitting on a hot coal. Number 1 brother with so much sole. It’s 2004 people we must vote so run to the polls and cast your ballet. Otherwise you might get fuck while tossing bushes salad. We all have special talents like me, I flow, as for my bitches, they hoe, as for my pockets, full of dough, as for my car, I’m leaned back that’s why I’m rolling slow. A rhyme a day is how I grow. Not on a label so probably will never have a show but who really knows, but who really knows?

Who knows?

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I'll miss you all [09 May 2004|08:22pm]
Caution stand back 200 feet from my flow it’s dangerous so stand clear. And to all you bitches step back and watch the left hand while my right hand is holding a beer. With out the Baby powder I’m still vicious, cause when I rock spots bitches leave bleeding running blocks for stitches. I’ve got a million and one wishes number one in the top ten is that I’ll never be broke and doing dishes. And for now I’ve dropped the chronic to get the green, and if I am able to get the green, I’m probably able to complete my dreams. Nothing in this life is ever what it seems, on the outside I am quiet, but for some reason I’m always hearing screams. Like what the fuck am I gonna do, what the fuck in this life am I holding on too. The number one answer to that is my crew and all my friends that clink cans while drinking brews. Here’s to the lax team, waddup, it's number two. And to them girls that’s on the ice and looking nice, you get much respect from me and all trust that over the summer your Asses are all full bust for the love of the game. I spit this shit cause for me it sparks a new and brighter flame. It’s you that fuels my fire, it’s for you that I will fulfill me desire of becoming the best, I put my whole being to the test. Fuck it I’ll take this whole world onto my shoulders and chest.

Missing yall all already.
Hip Hop it’s in my blood
-Poetry by Ponce
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Challenge [06 Apr 2004|12:51pm]
Well here it is I’m calling you out. You thought I was done, but the light didn’t go out. And there’s no doubt that I’m here to reclaim the make believe thrown that you claim to own. I’ve got this game locked up and sewn shut. Look at your Cheeks now, all red from me kicking your butt. I keep you chained like my bitch cause my rhymes are phat like Jaba the hut. No need to call out your name, you know who you are. Constantly trying to shit on me on your way to becoming a star. Keep it up and you’ll have your nuts in a jar on the seat next to you while your driving your car. So stop with your rhymes, I’m not trying to catch sars. You know where to find me cause I’m always hitting the bars. I’ve got multiple bitches as well as multiple cars. I teach bitches like you how to roll nice cigars. This lyrical shit will never stop, I’ll slit my wrist and out the blood drips spelling hip hop. That’s right it’s in my blood and it’s boiling hot. It’s plain and simple your not, your more or less a wanna be, it’s to hard to try, so stop trying to be me, maybe you should try some R and B, like R. Kelly. Cause you killing me on this mic is something that you’ll never see. It’s called immortality cause I’ll never die, you’ll never shit on me on your way to getting a piece of the pie. It’s too late to stick a fork in you cause you’re past done. Burning you on the mic in my pleasure, I had fun. Games over, hey mommy take a look at your son and guess what, I won.

Thank you, thank you, thank you,
3 bows for the champion
-Poetry by Ponce
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Ready and willing [05 Apr 2004|12:38pm]
I’m badder then most, on the mic I burn Emcees scraping em off like burnt toast. In this battle I’m the winner and also the host. I don’t mean to boast but I’m dope, going against me you’ll lose all hope, so throw it away it won’t float. My rhymes are dirty so I use soap to keep it clean. I’m solo no need for a major league team. I’ll pull your lyrics apart like a fucked up seam. Like ODB my Drunken style flows from the Jim Beam. The ladies love me while I’m driving the green machine. I’m a pimp that’s always down for a mystery like Scrappy Doo. Always high as shit like Shaggy too. So go get your whole crew cause I’ve got enough Scooby snacks for them too including you. So do what you do I’m through and when I blow I’ll be pushing Denali whips in the snow, driving passed you after I’m finished pimpin your hoe. Pimpin her for rocks on my wrist that glow. I’m all go, no show, constantly ready to drop my flow.

I’m always ready
-Poetry by Ponce
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hot shit [04 Apr 2004|07:35am]
I’m still on this shit never ready to quit. Words constantly leaking from the tips of my lips. I’m no bitch; I’m keeping it real. Tell me what’s the deal with no deal can you feel this shit is for real. Trying to stack dough is tougher then fucking with my bro’s. I’m better then cola, that’s why I’m up your nose, yous amateurs; I’m in the pros. Gapped out, while I’ve got my custom clothes. This Poetry shit is just a workout before my shows. Soon to stack Denali’s having’ stupid bitches riding’ like Holly. Berries double dipped in hot fudge, should be against the law but I’m the judge. Swerving while her tittys start to rub. 100 proof vodka absorbed into my blood, one-way ticket straight to the club, while I’m bubbed. If I find a hotter bitch I’m picking her up quick with a line talking about a rub a dub dub in the tub after we leave this pub. It’s all love without the kissing and the hugs, plus the glove I keep it hard no need for the tug. And there’s no sleeping or cuddling, I keep it thug. I’m a true lyricist spitting my shit just to get you pissed. You can’t ignore me cause I’m a constant pain like a cist. Battle me and the number one outcome is you getting dissed.

Some shit I came up with
-Poetry by Ponce
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Hot shit inspired by Kanye West [01 Apr 2004|04:00pm]
[ mood | artistic ]
[ music | Kanye West ]

I went from High school to hallmark institute of photography, from hallmark to N.E.C. In other words I went from Pong to pimp and pimp to Ponce. Listening to Kanye got me thinking I’m lost. So I’m listening to my heart at all cost. I’m my own boss, for this is the summer of floss. Whack nigga's move back before you’re tossed, like an olive garden salad I’ve got no emptiness to my rhymes. Leave your face sour from biting too many limes. I’ll fight any of you bitch ass nigga's; I’m not kind. Everything I do to you is premeditated I use my mind. I’m falling behind only because this bitch just dropped her pants while grabbing her ankles. I’ve got elephant styles bigger then your whole shit combined. I’m a pimp so I don’t ever wine and dine. I used to love the ladies loving me, but now I keep it real with the boys, holla at me its D. So lets role it up and let it burn. If you think your rhymes is better then just fucking wait your turn. I’ve got the mic and I’m holding it making it hot, each rhyme I spit is better then the last that I spit. Only god can get this mic and I to split. If I had no hands my soul would still hold it in its grasp. Emcee’s fucking with me lose jobs, forced to resort to rob. No loot to eat, not even corn on the cob. Used to were Jordan’s but now dressed like a slob. I killed your flow your style of clothes, I’m fucking your hoes, curling their toes, we could’ve been bro’s, but you slipped so I flipped.

Kanye West (hot shit)
-Poetry by Ponce

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what? [21 Mar 2004|12:52pm]
[ mood | mellow ]

It’s been so long I almost forgot how to rock the spot. It’s twenty below but I still got your bitch hot. You’re thinking you’re the shit but I’m thinking you’re not. So just squash the beef son and role up that pot. And I’m talking about that blunt honey dipped so it burns slow. There’s not enough time in my day so hurry up lets go. If only blunts grew on tress I would watch them grow. Instead I watch them shrink with memories as I begin to let go. It’s getting loud in this room someone kick a beat while I flow. Proper rotation is from left to right nnnnnn I know. My heart rate’s dropping that’s why I’m moving slow. But don’t worry boys I’ll pass this bitch cause she’s a hoe. But before I do pass this shit ante up the dough.

What am I on.
-Poetry by Ponce

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