Mummy's Special Little Soldier

“Mummy’s Special Little Soldier”

You’re not special, cause your mummy told ya/

You are just a special, mama’s little soldier

I revel on a level, when I sculpt with this culture/

As I bedevil like a devil, with my pen in my holster

If you test my mettle, you’ll get more than an ulcer/

I’ve come here to embezzle, like I vulture the culture

A mental menace with a pencil, they tremble from pen/

They try assemble & disemble, & then disheavled again

I put all bets on my pen, cause my pen can never not win/

And I’m aiming at their heads, until they’re dead in a coffin

I’ve had one crossing the road, then on ten toes she was gone/

Like she must of read my flows, & sensed she wasn’t that strong

I tend to pen what I want, yet what I want they call wrong/

Like who what, you do what, da do ron-ron-ron/

It’s like the Mong that’s in Mongrel, was put there for them/

Hence it was hospital for the womble, when I cooked him with pen.

The Dark Poetry Of An Abused Child