Drabble

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Since I never posted this, I thought I’d upload one of the many iterations of Ken’s and my drabble, using only phrases taken from Big Boi’s Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty, which has its own sort of idiosyncratic vocabulary.

With my ear to the street and my eye to the sky,
Daddy Fat Sax, indeed it is I;
Yes, it is I, the B.I.G. B.O.I.
Trying to block my shine just ain’t gon’ happen so don’t try
Oh with my Southern drawl awkwardly I spray
Yo DJ ain’t no DJ, DJ hit that instant replay
Yo DJ ain’t no DJ, he just make them fuckin’ mixtapes
Meanwhile the weak-minded are falling by the wayside
So many ghostwriters that the game is haunted by
The angelic plucking of the puppet strings;
Oh, my dear Tangerine, damn the American Dream.

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