Got everybody watchin’ what I do, come walk in my shoes And see the way I’m livin’ if you really want to Got my mind on my money And I’m not goin’ awayyyyyyy So keep on gettin’ your paper, and keep on climbin’ Look in the mirror, and keep on shinin’ (shinin’) Until the game ends, ’til the clock stop We gon’ post up on the top spot Livin’ the life, the life In the Windmill City got my whole team with me The life, my life I do it how I wanna do I’m livin’ my life, my life I will never lose I’m livin’ my life, my life And I’ll never stop it
Goated, standing on the podium, I am number one, the gold is coated, you were never on my level, you tip the scale, you just bloated. Swaying public opinion on my side like a poll have you voted? Noted, I am the greatest, on top like the latest, fuck the world with no latex. I avoid texts, bluetick your ass like no tax but the flow is lax, loose like your girl and I am hitting from the back and I tell her relax. Your clique whack, you can never hit back, you on the sack, call you out individually and beat you by the pack. Shuffle you like a deck, crush you like an insect, I release doom on your ass and watch you fall by the sect. Whose next? I penetrated the game now who wants to fuck with the best? Your tactics are lame, just a couple of pests. Regurgitate your shit before I can ever digest. Permanent residence in this game while you just a guest. I am dominating and the world is my conquest. I’m goated, boats in my horizon cause I am coasted, bitches in my bed I never boasted. Smash and vacate, tomorrow another date, more bitches to bait, they need love and we just never hate. Baphomet, horns on my head and they spike, protected from threats like a dike, you come up against me and I’ll ride you like a bike, you lightweight like a kite. You talented – Sikes! You a joke, you make the mood light. This is my site, here’s an apple to bite, some legendary shit, you challenge to spite and I’ll beat your ass despite, cause I bring the pain and I go all night. Goated!
World champion, been at the top for so long, I am bored, I need a companion, doesn’t need to be strong, one to teach these bitch ass niggas to keep their panties on, If you got bush I’ll cut you down to size cause I mow the lawn, you think you on my level, how amusing, yawn. World champion son, a Bible of achievements, I bless you with my words, just one of my endowments, head to head with me is enough to make you lament, aloud, rueing for that last encounter, I’ll give you another chance, beat you and then discount ya. Winning is a vocation, it determines the location, top when you need directions, cause I go hard like an erection and I never stop, all night, all day, banging the competition like a drum, flow intoxicating like rum, dick game sure to make her cum. World champion, I make every woman go numb, drooling saliva from the mouth, I make them go dumb, south, I decimate the cookie, she can vouch, hospitable to let her sit on my face like a couch. For that win, I am a louche, willing to do anything, so I pounce, on that jelly ass, smack it till it bounce. World champion, charisma flunked the test, it’s on steriods, grounded like center of gravity right on your loins, unusual and abnormal, magnetic and opens doors, better than a key, style buzzing and a stinger like a bee. World champion son, look at the girls, look at the section, a sparkling example of winning, change them up like underwear cause we ain’t done sinning. Devour your heart like Lector cause I am a cannibal, command the pussy like Hannibal cause I am a general. Coins underground like minerals, we never flash, we wait for you to disappear then we splurge the cash. World Champion, we have all the gold, history books rewritten and we becoming old. Everyone is beat, on their ass like a seat, they can’t stand the heat. Professional winners, there isn’t anything we haven’t done. The list of competitors is none. World Champion son, the best of the best, you wanna be a pest, we’ll dispose of you, it ain’t a quest.
I am convinced that God is a comedian. Life was never meant to be serious. We humans complicate the process. We desire, we envy and postpone the present for an hypothetical future. We suffer more in imagination than reality. We love the illusion of control, we insist on micromanagement, we hold tight and firm to our preconceived notions, we want things to happen our way. God laughs because much of what happens is spontaneous. No one knows anything real about life. Even the term “real” attempts to make sense of what just is, an impossibility, that’s like biting your own teeth. Life is obsurd, no one has the answers, if someone had a cheat code then the game wouldn’t be worth playing anymore. How can you take serious what dissappears right before your eyes. I once had a girl who professed feelings of love towards me. I asked her are you serious or are you playing with me? She said she was serious and I was disappointed because I wanted her to play with me. Who wants a serious girlfriend? She be clinging on to me, suffocating my space, preserving me out of insecurity and controlling my perception of reality. Nah babygirl relax, calm down, it’s not my responsibility to make you happy, you must do that for yourself and then we will be happy together. I am not your world, get the fuck outta here! I am amazed with the mind games that people play on a daily, the sly manipulations and gaslighting to get you to do their bidding for them. Don’t get me wrong, I know that people control and manipulate me everyday, some tactics I see like the marketing and advertising that’s prevalent around me, some manipulations are paternal, they have been happening ever since I was born, some manipulations are to control frames to make sense of our interactions in the world cause somebody has to be passive and compliant to have a successful interaction, two alpha wannabes interacting won’t get you far. I love when women attempt to manipulate, the crocodile tears and the victim mentality, I always laugh, oh you a good actress but overt manipulations don’t work on me. Life is funny, it’s play. It’s not a coincidence that people who are successful in life do what they love, it’s not work for them, it’s play, they get to do what they love everyday and there is a glow about them, they are shining stars, they are fulfilled, they are happy. It’s play, they dance for the sake of dancing. The musicians, they play music. To play with no end game in mind, that’s the purpose of life. There’s a contrast in people who work and not play in their professions, they can’t wait for the day to be over, they are absent-minded, they postpone their happiness, they live in the future, their present sucks. You see it with all the serious professions like defence, your soldiers, crippled by PTSD and living life with paranoia. The need to be serious all the time, they are not happy. Why would you want to be serious all the time? That’s not life. It’s so unfortunate because the present is all we ever have, to deny it, is to deny your life.
Life is play, everyday is an opportunity to do what you want, to engage in what you love, to be around people who enhance the quality of your life. There’s wisdom in “YOLO” which translates to you only life once. You have to take play seriously! That’s why we get together with the gents, buy 48 Corona, 2 bottles of Hennessey, smoke Chronic to set the mood and the whole day is on autopilot. We play, we have fun, we connect, we live in the moment that’s now. It’s counterproductive to be with people who don’t share your values, people who you don’t see eye to eye with, the playing experience won’t be optimal. It’s a waste of life. Why would you want to be with someone you don’t want to play with. The rules of play are governed by two simple rules, respect and reciprocity, it’s give and take, give pleasure to receive pleasure. Simple cause and effect, that’s how you know it’s truthful. Albert Camus once said the real question of life is to whether to commit suicide or not. Why would you want to play if the activity doesn’t give you pleasure? 9 to 5 working a job you hate for a boss who treats you like crap and doesn’t like you. The pay is horrible and you can’t even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore. Isn’t it wise to end the game? The location is already pre-determined, death. No one can escape it, everyday you move closer to it, it calls out your name and the sound rebounds like an echo until time. We take life way too seriously when it’s already determined, a formality. Why? What for? You won’t survive it, even if you live longer, you won’t survive it. Life is play, every day is play, you are the Universe experiencing itself, you are not separate from it, you are it like everything around you, you are just a different expression, live your life, you choose how to live it, play, be happy, don’t be too serious, life is not serious. Play, be in the process. Love the process. Do the things that you love and be with the people you love. Play, be like a child in the moment, be immersed in the present, block out the external world, people’s thoughts about you, they don’t matter, they never have, the only thing that matters is what you think about yourself, play, find flow, laugh, be silly, feel the wet grass from under your feet, run, explore, be yourself, find the expression that’s truest for you, embrace your individuality, play, be all that you can be.
Money makes her smile, emotions flooding through her circuitry, it makes her dance, on poles, on tables just so she can start her stable. To be able, and not depend on anyone, she’ll take the labels. Bitch, slut, yea whatever, as long as she can pay the cable. Money makes her laugh, a deep haughty guffaw that paralyzes the body with bliss. She has a connection with money and it’s more intimate than a kiss. Third base, in bed with money biting it to cause a lisp. If you ain’t got money, she’ll overlook you like an eclipse. Money, money, money makes the world go round. You pull up with your Honda, but it ain’t make a sound. Beastly and animalistic that will make her come, big body with an attitude, prize loose like latitude, breathing fire that expands in magnitude, your Civic, yea that’s kind of cute. Money, money, money can buy you happiness. You can have everything in abundance and won’t have to settle for less. Walking around in mink coats, coasting around the borders in expensive boats. Drinking champagne and eating lobster, associating with celebrities, fucking pornsters. Money, money, money, walking on marble, consumed by majestic views, sights of waves billowing in the calm mountain apartment, carressed by the sun and blessed by the hand of God. Money, money, money, what you want? 9 to 5 money, that’s safe money, slave money, enough to keep you docile and obedient money. That’s not enough money, it’s simply stay off float money, not enough to reach your goals money, you’ll never have enough money. Maybe drug dealer and criminal money? Dirty money, it’s floss at the club money, fuck bad bitches at the club money, stunt what you wearing money, consume alcohol everyday with your friends money, fast money, cold from a bullet from heat money. Maybe stripper money, working the pole money, lap dance money, hustler money, suck your dick money, fuck you and your friend money, daddy issues with no options money. People do anything and everything to get money. We are all brain dead like a mummy, yet the taste still persists, sweet like honey, we can’t let go, we are addicted, completely hypnotized to the idea of money.
She’s got daddy issues, she’s eager to please. Her daddy left when she was young and she has never been at peace. No masculine figure in her life, she sucks dick to appease. Rumor has it she blew the whole squad, got her on all fours like a quad. Insecure, void and empty, always looking for something to fill her, hard and phallic it fills her. Every man looking to fuck her, slut shame her. A pornstar in the making, her pubs are already trending, legs in the air but her confidence descending. That’s why she’s promiscuous cause every boy is an opportunity to get close to someone, she wants to be loved by someone, the attention validates her, it feels like she matters, reality sucks and confidence in tatters. So she’ll do whatever you like to please you, the pussy she will lease you, for free and include videos, knowing they will leak, her nudes are making rounds and are close to peak. Her self-worth is all yours to keep. She’s got daddy issues, I could get her to drop her panties and wrap her legs around my waist. Cum on her face or use protection to excrete the waste. A bit unstable, should come with a label. So easy and gullible, she thinks she’s unlovable, calls every man daddy. Men use her as a caddy, to store their seeds inside, only to contaminate the can and abandon the mission like a ban. She’s got daddy issues, easy to get her in the sack. Missionary style or blow out her back. Fuck her out in the deck, so everyone can see, issues deeper than a shipwreck at sea. She’s got daddy issues, her life is sad, you’ll need a tissue. All the men in her life are disappointments, the world is cold with no one to kiss you.
I never did stop loving you, even throughout the long years, I thought about you constantly. I did my best to stay in touch. But you were playing games, corresponding with my friend in attempts to make me jealous. Sometimes it did work but it was in the minority. He was never in my league so I never felt threatened, but I did question you and whether or not you were worth it. I invested so much of myself in the idea of you that I never wanted to lose you. I thought I had it all figured out, that we’d someday be together, but I was wrong. Despite you being the inspiration of everything I did, I still lost you. To this day I still don’t understand why life didn’t give us a chance. I regret nothing, I stand by everything I did in the past. I am the accumulation of my past efforts and I am proud of the man I’ve have become. But I keep wondering what if? We were vibing, we were on the same wavelength. I loved you and I know you felt the same way. Is there something we should have done differently? Were we deluded in our love? I am guilty for being distant and not being affectionate so maybe it’s me, I should have sent you text messages that warmed your heart and showed you I cared but then again, I didn’t want to manipulate you, you’d pick it up, all this love-bombing stuff, I wouldn’t be able to sustain it. I prefer to be with you in the flesh and gaze in your eyes, shower you with compliments and tell you that I love you. Unfortunately distance got in between us and that barrier couldn’t be overcome. Our union was doomed from the start. We just could not get it together. I can’t help but to think that you are the one that got away and I am rueful ruminating about potential realities. You are mine in a perfect world, I’ll never stop loving you.
A man who has money is beauty for women just like how men look for beauty in women. Granted you wouldn’t marry a woman for her beauty but it sure helps. Money is attractive, money is intoxicating, it has the promise of fulfilling all your dreams. Visions of not having to struggle anymore, gracing balls wearing designer clothes burdened with sparkling diamonds that hang on your neck and wrists, driven in luxury and escorted by royalty. Which girl wouldn’t want to be Cinderella for a lifetime? This time the magic doesn’t dissipate, the clock keeps ticking, the fairy godmother on speed dial and the glass shoes keep on multiplying. Living in Mansions, walking on marble, oversighted by crystal chandeliers, swimming in heated pools and served by foreign butlers. There enters the Gold digger, the manifestation of every man’s fantasy. She represents a tunnel in the repressed subconscious mind. She fulfills you in every way you desire. She subjegates herself to you, granting you power. She soothes and fills what’s lacking in your life. She is your escape in a world were routine triumphs. She is exciting, new and forbidden, uses her body to make you yield into the temptation of her bosom. You can squeeze if you want to, that’s the whole point. She’s yours for a price. The esteem and prestige of being your wife, but no prenups. Also, she wants to be included in your will, a stake in the inheritance fund and half of everything you own and oh, she’ll get it all. Her cunning intelligence guarantees it. You are her gold mine and she’s not letting go. Unlike the typical woman who operates with the right hemisphere of her brain, she is a blend of both hemispheres, she is both feminine and masculine. She is not just a woman whose emotional and acts on her feelings, she thinks, she plans, uses reason and logic, she has drive, she is ambitious! You are the route to her Gucci and Louis Vuitton bags, bespoke designer clothes, red bottoms heels and summer vacations in Monaco.
It was difficult to defend against the Blitzkrieg attack because it enveloped the enemy and crushed it with great speed. It gave you no time to think, no space to move, you were crushed by the weight of the attack. The perfect gold digger is akin to a blitzkrieg attack. You’ll never see it coming, she will crush you and dispose of you faster than the speed of light. Great gold diggers will seduce you, play to the repressed qualities of your being, ascentuate their body features, lower the pitch of their voices, play the demsel in distress, regress to a childlike persona, dominate through passivity to sink their claws in, marry you for your money and then divorce you. They are the definition of deception and smokescreens, they disappear like an illusion, like a dream, like it never happened. After you it’s on to the next one. You have to admire gold diggers because they are ambitious, they are driven, they have will, they want a good life and you are a means to an end. Gold diggers have balls, what makes them great is their ability to tap into their masculine sides while maintaining their femininity. That ambition will get you everything in life. I would love to be a Hugh Hefner, a magnet for gold diggers. To be surrounded by young, hot, beautiful women and have the relationships be platonic and transactional, using my pool and walking around the house in nothing but their birthday suits, oh Hugh cracked the code, the Playboy Mansion is heaven!
Women cheat, men cheat, its human nature no one is perfect. Men cheat a lot but women are better cheaters. Women play the game better, they think long-term. Men just want to fuck. It’s not even a contest, your lady can break you down. She can cause permanent damage to your psyche, she can flip the switch to end your life. You don’t want to know who’s dick she’s sucked. And when she cheats, you won’t know a thing. Bet money now, you’ll get the biggest shock of your life! This is because female nature is more cunning in nature. It’s more chaotic and creative. The masculine brain is more leftist and derives it meaning from reason and rationality. The masculine brain wants to instill order while the feminine brain just doesn’t give a fuck, it wants to see everything burn! Nothing and no one is out of bound. Its difficult to catch your lady in the act of cheating because usually everything is so premeditated, so precise, there is so much detail, so much care, the deceptions, the story has had time to grow, ties that used to be platonic are metastasizing into something more. To go through with the process of cheating they need to feel secure, so most likely they will level up from the relationship they are currently in. It’s not uncommon for them to level down because sometimes the nigga with a bus pass has better dick game, but that’s for short-term results, they usually level up. They will be in stealth mode and wait for you to fuck up, they will even bait you to it and when you trip, leave your tired ass. Men on the other hand get caught cheating 9 out of 10 times. Men don’t invest as much as women in keeping infidelity a secret. The bare minimum will suffice and if they are caught well “I am sorry, I’ll never do it again” but that’s really just bullshit because men cavet everything. Everything is emotions with ladies so when she cheats it’s a double dagger to your spirit because she stopped investing in the relationship emotionally and started an entirely new portfolio with someone else. It means she stopped loving you, she stopped respecting you. If she stops respecting you then it’s over. It’s not redeemable like a voucher. Women can move on much faster because they stopped investing in you emotionally for quite some time and it might come across as cold and sudden but oh, it’s not, she has been stacking up your fuck ups for months and years. Women hold grudges and they remember everything. It’s useful for when they want to get back at you! Men on the other hand just want some pussy, it’s not deep, just some short-term gratification, it won’t hurt anybody, no one will ever know. More body counts doesn’t mean I love my lady less, just means I was hungry, I wanted some pussy. Let’s be real, men were never made to settle with one partner, that’s not how evolution works. If that were the case, our species would be in trouble. Men with strong genes have to take the lead, they get preferential treatment, if it means mating with more suitors then so be it. Strong genes signal vitality, health and life. It’s simply nature, has been that way from the beginning of time. There’s also the case that women outnumber men by 5 to 1. God is not an idiot. Women domesticate men for survival, it’s hardwired into their brains, we can understand that but it’s a projection and an attempt at control and is not really natural for men. When you really think about it, marriage is a fancy word for domestication. A man must sow his seeds and so he is bound to fuck up, it’s hardwired into his brain, it’s in his genes, his just gotta get variety on that pussy. When a woman cheats on the other hand that’s blasphemous! There is no coming back for a woman who cheats but “I can change” for a man who does, it’s expected, it’s his nature. Double standards I know but we are not hardwired the same. Women and men are not the same not even a sex change can alter that. Intent matters, we cheat to satisfy different things. Love and sex can be separated for men while love is a byproduct of sex for women. Cheating for men is hardly malicious, cold and calculated but it usually is for women. A woman will fuck your cousin to get back at you, now family gatherings are ruined forever. I know times have changed and women are more liberated with their bodies but have you ever been with a woman with a high body count? The intimacy, the connection, the warmth, her love, it’s all wrong, it’s not the same. She’s cold, distant, out of sync, avoidant and probably damaged. You can’t build something of substance with someone like that, she’s not interested in building anything. Where is her value? Where is her feminine essence? Body count matters especially for women, for men it’s just sex. Women can’t be in the casual sex game for the long haul whereas men can test drive different generations.
When everyone knows you’re a writer, the stories come to you. On the weekend, I decided to see a couple of friends I hadn’t seen in a while. A friend was hosting an event and he invited me. I was excited and the event was a success. It was youthful, vibey and very summer. All I could see was girls in shorts and mini skirts. The place was illuminated by yellow thighs and you needed shades to let in the proper light in your retinas. The speakers were blasting Piano, of course and you could hear that lock drum and bass beating to the soul of the universe. There was happiness and it was contagious radiating throughout the room and manifesting itself on the dance floor. Tables were filled with bottles and hookahs connected to pipes emitting smoke that bubbled like a chimney from lungs that breathed out vitality and Joy. Oh, it was great. I drank alcohol and I smoked weed, I was hunk. A friend got into an altercation and the whole situation nearly spiraled out off control but luckily I managed to diffuse the situation. I can’t take all the credit, I am lucky he wasn’t a hot head, he chose peace. I merely told my nigga, “relax, his a fool let him take his petty win. Let’s focus on the girls we have here tonight”. He smiled and put his ego aside, calmed down, left the scene and let the fool be. Unfortunately, his girlfriend heard our conversation and she wasn’t happy with my proposed plan of “focusing on the girls here tonight” but she played it cool and intercepted my plan of action by keeping his man on lock for the whole night. For the whole night I couldn’t get to my nigga, she had her claws in deep. If I persisted she would give me this ice cold stare that you would get from a cobra with its hood raised up and I would cower because I knew her strike was venomous. I knew she had won, my nigga called me to the side and told me the plan was compromised and I shouldn’t protest that I must enjoy the night. So I did, I made a couple of connections and got a couple of numbers. A window of opportunity presented itself and the nigga came up to me and I was chilling with hot honeys, he was being courteous and wanted an introduction and so I obliged him. His girlfriend looking from afar catched feelings and gave him an ultimatum when he returned to her. It was between me and her. My nigga chose her and it’s no hard feelings. I understand, vagina always wins. I can’t compete with pussy. I would probably do the same thing. He took her home. We are fine, we still good friends and I ended up having a great night, if that’s too cryptic, I didn’t sleep alone.
antakalipa 