Paparazzi

I’ve carved a
creative niche

bitter-sweet

difficult to deal with

as I saunter down your street.

My verse is  clipped

And yeah, I’m truly shameless

my heart’s a trip

my wit’s eff’n famous.

I’ll stay for endless hours

to shoot a simple view.

I direct my burning lens

to puke a primary hue.

It may affect your estimation

you see I have a reputation

it requires lots of concentration.

MY degree is in DEDICATION

to MY WORK.

You can’t be caught obscene

with dis drama queen.

Yeah my BAD

I mean

my gear is often stuck in

some balls hairy

places

lacking social graces

with dried egg plaster

embedded in our faces.

I’ll frame

you full of life

smug and satisfied

bare-assed naked

soaked

in all your lies.

SHOOT DAT!

I am an artistic dish

itching

to generate, maybe palpitate

because I can imagine

you was once a gift, yea mama’s boy

her pride and joy

intact, a sap– JAIL-BAIT

that wouldn’t DREAM of being late

or make me wait.

Full of phony excuses

foul abuses

to face the boozers

sucking users

that refuses, to make the right choices

to GROW, their WIRED VOICES.

WHY?

cause nothing shoots better

than living in your car.

And because I work for the STAR

you know.

Yeah– I’m Mitch

and one dizzy bitch

what’s it to you?

YOU—standing there solid

in your dirty J. Crew.

And I am an Artiste!

Won’t you be my candid shot

and play wit me some more?

Maybe later we can pan and zoom

by the corner candy store.

Because my lens in your face

so shut the fuck up

don’t dis me in MY SPACE.

I’ll just keep you AWHILE

What was your name, KYLE?

just turn yea sweet cheeks to da left

And babes, give me a big SMILE!!