GSO
At about 2:45am 3/14/2017 I was dreaming of Mr. Smee walking down Vegas Avenue holding hands in the rain with a Red Dress chick, red umbrella, High Staledoes and a pimping bublicious arse. I had to rub my eyes when I woke up. Aint no way Mr. Smee could possibly snatch up such a broad that looks like Shakira. At least not in my Latin living time frame.
When I woke up GSO, I come to realize as I looked at the floor that I was standing on North Kakilacki ground, NOT SIN CITY
Aint no way my baby found a replacement.........Not my shorty
IT WAS JUST A DREAM
Mister Smee stolled down the Vegas boulevard, his hair matted down with a handful of lard
Half drunk and lookin' for a fight
He'd met a lady with a red umbrella claiming she'd love to fall for a hillbilly feller
Said her name was Carol White
Claimed she owned an *** Kickin' School strictly complying with all the regulations and rules
MIster Smee took another drank of gin.
" I ain't interested in all them damn rules, ditto the regulations, same for the fancy red shoes.
As the likker cascaded down his unshaven chin.
" The mainstream ain't my M.O. or motif ", proudly flashing his remaining two or three teeth.
The love birds appeared so in sync
MIster Smee swore to never roam as they got all cozied up in a Fleetwood mobile home
Promising never again to drink.
They were stuck together like Amazon starvin' leaches , spending time at LaTeDa beaches
Eating herbs and cold ice cream
The last I heard they lived by the sea, having a daughter, Nancy, and a son named C.T..
This was the end of the Governor's psychedelic dream.