Caught Up

You have captivated me in every way
From the time we met, still until this day
Oh boy, you got me... caught up with you
Simple as the time we spent I'll tell you this
I'll do anything cause the truth is
Boy you really got me... caught up with you
And I'm sayin, and I'm sayin, boy

I want to be none less than wifey
You half-ass the rest
But you watch your step with me
See, I know and you know that we are
Ready for love

Oh-oh, oh, oh, oh
Ooh-ooh...you got me
Oh-oh, oh, oh, oh
Ooh-ooh...now keep me -- Teedra Moses

I'on know how many times I gotta tell this nigga that I'm not gonna be his girlfriend for the next 5 years.

Nope. Wife me, nigga.

As I'm watching that bastard take another biteful of food, I'm 'claring war in my mind.

I'm not washing your funky ass clothes no more. Wash 'em yourself!

This isn't a restaurant. Eat before you get here.

Just like you don't feeeeeeeeel like marrying me yet...

I'on feeeeeeeeeeeeeee like fucking you tonight.

Two can play that game, Tonto.

See, and then ya'll wonder why we up and get pregnant on your slow-to-react asses.

I had a girlfriend actually tell me,

Nina...you're gonna have to just go on and get pregnant for him to marry you.

Curious.

I do?

Says who?

I'm not beggin' that muthafucka to marry me!

Ain't gon' beg you to love me
Ain't gon' beg you to hold me
Ain't gon' beg you to pick me up and take me out
Ain't gon' beg you to ice me
Ain't gon' beg you to want me
Why should I have to when somebody else will? -- Fantasia

Fuck I look like.

Not getting pregnant to pressure this fool.

He'll either get his shit together or he won't.

Regardless of that, I will continue doing me. And I do me well. Please believe me.

(It's) your mind vs.
(It's) Your heart vs.
(It's) Your soul vs.
(Your) Your body
Versus
Our bullshit
(And) Our ego
(And) Our pride
(That's why) That's why I love the word WOMAN... -- R. Kelly

I'm past the age where I can list all my pros in my one uninterruptible string of adjectives, adverbs, and word phrases.

From my experience, I consider myself to be a helluva gal.

But that's just me. I realize that my experiences are limited, relatively speaking.

But in the microcosm that is MY world, my worth is earmarked by each stretch mark on my ass.

Each mole on my face.

Each pop of the cartilege in my knee.

All that shit means something to me. That shit is worth something TO me.

I can cook my ass off, but I expect for all women to be able to do such.

Product of my childhood, ya'll. So that ain't no shit I'm impressed by, and would look at you crazy if you were impressed by it.

Woman supposed to be able to smother some chicken and fry cabbage and make homemade frosting.

Woman supposed to do that.

My man don't clean shit when I'm around. I clean everything.

Where I'm from, that's what we do. I ain't lookin' for no award for that either.

Just the way it is.

But wait...I'm not your fuckin' doormat.

I'm not some annoying bill that comes every month, that you never pay, and that never seems to be reported to Equifax.

That's not what I am.

I treat you good because that's who I am.

Not because of who YOU are. So let that be forever delineated here in case that it hasn't been.

I treat you good cuz that's the balm that soothes my spirit.

But I'll leave you if that soothes me just as well.

Don't get it confused.

I'm not purporting to be this strong muthafucka that don't need no man, cuz I do. I like sleeping next to a hot body. I like rubbing on your dick in my sleep. I love hearing your laugh. I love watching you rage at the Redskins when Brunell fucks up. I love how you just flow into what I'm not, and I can look down and not tell the difference between my end and your beginning.

But I'll be alright if I look down and all I see is me.

I'm sure of that.

But I'm no hero.

I'm just...ok. I wish that for everyone.

To be ok with where they living. I mean, of course, if you can live somewhere else better and not be house poor, do that.

But be ok where you at.

Be ok with what you are driving.

Be ok with who your friends are. They not perfect. Shit, if they were...they wouldn't be fuckin' witchu, now would they?

Be ok.

Just be ok with where and what and who and why YOU exist.

Just be ok.

And, baby. I'm ok.



I can't stand that Kobe Coon.

No really...fuck him and his 80 points.

Ass crack lovin', big walnut-Adam's Apple, sloped forehead Mongoloid mu'fucka.

And he pussy whupped?

Ugh. Fuck that nigga with a sick dick. In the ass crack, since he love that shit so much!



Speaking of sick dick...

Did you know Scott Joplin died of syphillis?

I was watching this movie about his life this weekend, and err'time somebody tried to ask him what was wrong with him, he goes into this hemmin' and hawin' routine about how his illness was complicated.

Told his wife that he left her with a painful legacy.

Yeah, muthafucka. SORES!

Told his producer that he couldn't work definitively, because of this illness that came and went.

Didn't you use to hang around brothels, Scott?

Complicated, eh?

That shit just struck me as hilarious. I'm laying in the bed, kee-keein' my ass off at Billy Dee tryna 'splain this shit eloquently.

Nigga, your dick is dripping!

Complicated. Yeah...I'll say. When you got some shit that don't have no cure for your black ass, I guess that shit IS complicated.

Make 'em, make 'em clap to this
Make 'em, make 'em clap to this... -- Eric B. & Rakim

I know I say some ignorant shit sometimes.

What's new?