You Know what,
I would love to do?
You’ll never guess
But here it is.
As a Grandfather
Of a growing Poetic teenage
Grandson.
He’s up and coming
Out of the shadows
Into the sun
Trying to spit some “Rap”
As millions young lads
Around him.
Oh by the way!
I’ve told him several times
I could write and do some damage
To some Rap myself
About my past youth
Growing up In the old hood.
A Gasngsta rapper
I never wanted to be
You dig, You see?
We didn’t practice cowardly
Drive bys
Where innocent people
Die.
No, No, No
Let me tell you fools
We kicked ass in and out
Of school.
It was bare knuckles
In our days
No guns, no knives
It was just our
Code of honor, we did it
Our way.
None, of those numbers bullshit
Of guns calibers
Tech 9, M16, Ak47
Bare knuckles fool
Ten fingers closed into a fist
Really made you cool.
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
We sho nuff kicked ass
No innocent ever got hurt
None ever died.
A forty
Was just another word
That rhymed with shorty
I myself enjoyed
A can of “Ballentine”
Or a plug of wine
“Thunderbird”
Disguised, in brown paper bag
The price was right
Thirty twice.
A Gangsta, Pimp Or dealer
I never desired to be,
Gangstas were punks,
Pimps were low lives
A dealer
Was a fast talking creep
That sold cars
Hiding behind the small print
No one reads
Of a dishonest sale.
A cell is a phone
Back then meant doing time
Behind bars
Looking out from within.
A hoe was a garden tool
Instead of a beautiful lost soul
Wandering around
Strange corners, far away from home
Or a disrespected lovely lady
Of these modern days.
Weed
was unwanted growth
Of wild vegetation
A joint
A bad place to be.
A toke
I never heard of
Before I took my first drag
That I didn’t inhale.
I never glorified
The under word of yesteryears
During
My once upon a time
Presence in the Ghetto
Just wanted to survive.
Now a place
I mention rarely
Wishing to never embrace it
Not even
Within my thoughts.
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,
Everybody on your feet
Clap your hands
Wow
Do I ever hate that statement
Coming from entertainers.
I pay to be entertained
Not to make a fool
Of myself
Entertaining buffoons on stage.
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Everybody clap your hands.
By William Bonilla
AKA Rapper
“Kool Granddaddy”
06/12/07
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Reviews of "A Taste Of Rap"
Reviewed by twinklewrites at her desk (Reader)
Reviewed on August 2, 2007
(((whistling-clapping)))Grandpappy William,a wonderful trip down memory lane...outstanding rapping! thanks for placing a smile on
my face and laughter too...take care...Hugs, Peggy
Gangstas were punks,
Pimps were low lives
A dealer was a fast talking creep...I totally agree!
I really enjoyed reading this. It was funny but you made some great points. Thanks for sharing.
William I liked that "A Taste Of Rap" and surely remember those days...yep I'd say we can spit~probably top the youngstas nowadays...but you know they think they are all that~hmmm won't be one for stopping them though as far as positivity they have so many avenues and backing nowadays to be successful. Good luck to your grand son and this was a wonderful and insightful sharing.
You know it...Semper Fi...all the way/all day long!
~Gwendolyn
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on August 1, 2007
Get, get get on down
Willy Zimmer B and his leccky wheel chairs are in town,
William, wow, wow, you have really got me tapping to the beat and yes, you could be a rapper. I think this is absolutely marvelous...you've impressed me Mr. William and I'd like to hear this with music. Now, I don't feel so foolish when I still want to be a country singer...I think I could...even at my age. ha. Loved this!!
God bless you for truth Kool Daddy! You tell it like it is and I love it! This should be published and the wise punks of today who think they are so "cool" would learn something!
William and a cool Granddaddy you are, I've often said we could teach those kids of today the true meaning of what cool was. Rap on if you will. Thank you for sharing.
Hey Kool Granddaddy! want to compare broken noses or split lips?
No gangsta with no shiv just the knucles yougonna see, see?
I can't say youre groovy or grandchild gonna grease my ass with shoe polish.
See you...man!
Georg
Kool Granddaddy, this I can Dig! And for some reason, I now have a craving for some Thunderbird or MD20/20! But I'll probably just take my Hoe to the garden, and smoke some weeds. Rap On!
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
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my face and laughter too...take care...Hugs, Peggy
Peace and blessings,
Carolyn
George
Pimps were low lives
A dealer was a fast talking creep...I totally agree!
I really enjoyed reading this. It was funny but you made some great points. Thanks for sharing.
Love and Hugs,
Patricia
Well done!
Susan
Co0l write William...
William I liked that "A Taste Of Rap" and surely remember those days...yep I'd say we can spit~probably top the youngstas nowadays...but you know they think they are all that~hmmm won't be one for stopping them though as far as positivity they have so many avenues and backing nowadays to be successful. Good luck to your grand son and this was a wonderful and insightful sharing.
You know it...Semper Fi...all the way/all day long!
~Gwendolyn
Willy Zimmer B and his leccky wheel chairs are in town,
a kewl man, a tall man, he gives
a taste of rap, then has
a 3 hour nap with the zzzzzzz, zzzzzzzzz sound...
Gotta love it Rapper thingy YOU :)!!
Love Tinka
Love,
Eileen
Rose
No gangsta with no shiv just the knucles yougonna see, see?
I can't say youre groovy or grandchild gonna grease my ass with shoe polish.
See you...man!
Georg
And never play the fool
Like some new "Gangstas" do
You know, the ones who
Pretend to be so cool.
Good job, "Kool Grandaddy!"
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
"...I pay to be entertained
Not to make a fool
of myself
Entertaining buffoons on stage..."
Got me standin on my feet, SHOUTIN! Well done! Ya couldn't have said it better.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
dan