My hair's playing me a fine tune today, woven, and whistling, like a song, beaded and bangled, I bob along. I listen to the bow slink across the nape of my chubby little base, wailing a sound that's not out a place with my smiling face. Man! That cat can howl! The strings of my guitar goin� plunk plunk yeah! while the drum sticks pound a sound, like my heart. Bop Ditty Bop! Mouth harps announcing just who us swingers are. Some just can't get the beat. No! You can't play that crap here. But that�s why I wanna hang out over there. They're laughing, and dancing the floor. They ain't square! When they jingle-jangle my braids I can hear their eyes sing, �My little Marshmallow Sista You got this joint jumpin� � Mauraid 2003 |
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