Writing a poem.

See, my poetry, it helps me escape the harsh realities of livin' in the hood.

Ah. That's deep.

Hey, you wanna read me one ?

Okay.

Let me see.

[ whispers ] yeah. Yeah.

"love is by far...

"the most precious thing on earth,

"like a rose's fragrance...

"or a child's birth. [ sighs ]

"love me...

"and leave me;

"that's the story of my life.

"but it won't happen again, see,

"since I bought a butcher's knife.

"yeah, see, the next man who loves me,

"and leaves me so quick, mm-hmm,

"I'm gon' cut off his balls and I'm gon' chop off his dick. [ moaning ]

"I'm gon' shoot that motherfucker.

"I'm gon' kill him ! I'm gon' stab that motherfucker !

"shit ! Fuckin' with me ? Oh, no !

"I'm gon' run him over with my car, see.

"he fuckin' with the wrong motherfucker. You don't fuck with me !

I will kill that motherfucker--" baby, baby, baby, baby.

I get the point. It was-- that was-- you liked it ?