Six o clock is bath time
for inner city
lords of crime
No one takes a nap
when Luigi
wears his shower cap
Soaping and scrubbing
the stains
from the brains
on the wall,
they had the gall
to not pay what was owed,
lines not toed,
measures not met,
big bills for ket
coke,
not in cans,
blocks of blow
from Afghanistan.
Italian leather shoes
blood-stained Saville Row trews
show circular stains
from the remains
of debts,
photographs
of kidnapped pets,
pay up
or shut the hell up
or the pup gets it,
we'll come round and wreck shit,
honest criminals,
hardly subliminal
threats of death,
in exchange
for being deranged
on a diet
of crystal meth.
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