Money trees's blares on the tiny speakers of the honda

Stolen property in the trunk

my homie with a Gat in his waist band

smoking herbs

fucking with the E and J

and cokes

its a simple drive to the fence

we need money for drugs

honeys waiting for us at the motel

waiting with the roaches

playing cards and tickling young flesh into submission.

We fence the stolen phones, and cheap gilded watches

my homie, his name horseshoe from a horseshoe shaped gash scar on his head

We are all doomed

we wait days for drugs that dont pay off

we gamble with cars with no insurance

drivers license expired

drugs pumping through our unwashed bodies

one step away from the gutter,

one step away from a premature grave.

We get back to the motel, roaches march out to greet us.

We return as heroes to our bored women who,

in panties and booty shorts, showing substantial ass

come up off the sagging mattress to hug us. We've returned

from the plug

with a sack of rocks

and burn

burn

burn

we will until there is no more

and when the drain of the drug begins

to tug at our bones.

we pile together into bed and make it for hours

sucking

slurping

diving into that fresh pussy

howling like coyotes for the fresh kill.

Spent we pile into the Honda and go searching for functions

to crash.

East valley road,

brandy, wine, beer, vodka, gin, cocaine, marijuana, speed

downers, reds, uppers, yellow pills of ecstasy, snorted up adderol.

We cruise the street hungry for drugs and senseless sex,

we hold our heads up high and plead with

the individual gods to bless us in our travels

We whisper love poems dirty and rotten into our ladies ears. We

whisper poisonous words,

promises,

declarations of love sung songs

and dirty jokes.

The hotel calls,

with the phone score,

we earned enough money for a week of shelter.

I remember the terrified faces of our marks

as horseshoe pulls out the 9 mm and points it at their skulls,

"gimme the phones or youre dusted"

We cruise the streets

the women spent passed out in the sagging mattress,

we hunt for another rip off

another mark

we dream of robbing the plug in his suburban tract home

absconding with ounces of crack

lady cane

her kiss is the sweetest of all the whores and tramps out there

we smoke bottom barrel weed and stalk the Plugs home.

We see him enter and then like loaded lightning we spring up on him

with a gun in his back.

A few minutes later were on track back to the motel with a bag full of rocks.