I huffed n' puffed under mah breath as I stared tha fuck into Tupac’s Grill. I felt like tha Big Wack Wolf locked n loaded ta interrupt tha innocent lil' pigs as they hurriedly fortified they makeshift cribs. Dis adventure would be some CRAZY shit beeeeeyyyyyyooooootchh!!!! I grinned at dis thought n' then turned mah head ta look fo' Margaret. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was a cold-ass lil couple feet down tha hill from tha entrizzle of tha cave, holdin a struttin stick close ta her petite breasts, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. "Hurry up!" I called down ta her n' shit. I turned back ta tha cave, still grinnin fo' realz. An old, rotted sign outside read Tupac’s Grill Cave: Keep Out!’ What a chillaxed cliche.
Margaret finally juiced it up ta tha entrizzle n' stood beside me, almost doubled over n' outta breath. I looked down n' smiled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Peep it out!" I laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Tupac’s grill. Wonder where Jizzy’ ass is?" I chuckled ta mah dirty ass. Margaret was less amused.
"Give me tha damn gin n juice bottle," her big-ass booty holla'd, exasperated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Da open forty kicked it wit her lips, n' fo' a moment I felt laid back up in a way, watchin her drank tha gin n juice n' shiznit fo' realz. Actually I take dat back. Da ‘peaceful’ comment, I mean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dat shiznit was mo' of a gangbangin' feelin dat was sort of hard ta put mah finger on or give a name yo, but I could settle fo' a sick ‘content’. Content seemed ta be one of dem lyrics dat manifest itself when natural, human lyrics seemed ta fail fo' realz. Again, a utter cliche yo, but it felt phat ta feel a strange, mixed-up sort of aiiight fo' once.
I sighed n' turned mah flashlight on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I pointed it tha fuck into tha cave. Blak. Tupac’s Grill. This seemed like tha fuckin antithesiz of a Holy Spirit, n' I aint talkin bout no muthafuckin Jack Daniels neither. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I turned again n' again n' again ta Margaret. "Yo ass ready?" I asked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was finally standin straight up. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch nodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I clapped a gangbangin' thugged-out hand ta her back n' we strutted tha fuck into Tupac’s Mouth.
Da inside was not unlike tha peepshow I had glimpsed outside wit mah flashlight. Dark, dismal, n' endlessly black. Well shiiiit, it seemed ta stretch endlessly, no matter how tha fuck I positioned mah flashlight. Da rocky terrain was damp n' imposing. Da last natural light slowly disappeared behind Margaret n' I as we made our way deeper n' deeper n' shit. I found it strange how tha fuck soft n' compellin tha ghetto round mah crazy ass now rocked up, despite tha stalactites, stalagmites, n' other various rocky formations bein so jagged. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiiit, it seemed dat even amongst tha pointed teeth of Dogg I could lay down n' rest there forever n' shit. Dat shiznit was comfortable.
Apparently Margaret didn’t agree. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch shivered uncomfortably under mah arm. I raised mah eyebrows. "Need yo' coat?" I asked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I tried ta peep her n' make non-verbal communication as explicit as possible until I realized dat we was lost inky blacknizz of tha Mouth. I bit mah lip n' waited yo, but her dope ass didn’t respond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! For a cold-ass lil couple minutes we strutted up in silence. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch stopped n' stood motionless. I stopped, like a muthafucka.
"Why tha hell is we even up in here?" her big-ass booty holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch sounded irritated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. I shrugged - mo' ta appease mah dirty ass than her - n' shoved mah flashlight under mah face. Bladed shadows obscured half mah face, tha other half illuminated up in a wretched mask. "Spooky!" I cried, chuckling. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn’t move.
I sighed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I thought you wanted ta go," I holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I noticed how tha fuck mah voice echoed against tha cave walls at any volume. "I mean," I fuckin started again, scratchin at mah chin, "Yo ass did say you wanted ta go peep some nature fo' our vacation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And you did sound impressed when I holla'd at you bout mah visit ta Mammoth Caves a cold-ass lil couple muthafuckin years back. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So…" My fuckin voice trailed off. I could still sense her irritation.
"No," her big-ass booty holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I frowned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Fuck dat shit, you wanted ta go here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I wanted ta git all up in a funky-ass beach or something. But no, a cold-ass lil cave fo' realz. A cave, Nathan!" Biatch sounded mo' like tha Big Wack Wolf now, nahmeean, biatch? "I know dat you have dis weird fetish fo' spelunkin or somethang yo, but I don’t straight-up wanna be dragged up in ta dat shit. Don’t git me wrong, I’d ludd ta go on a trip n' git tha fuck into nature n' fresh air yo, but this," I could hear her arms flail n' gesture bout up in tha thick air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. "This is cave air, not fresh air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. This air is practically fermenting! Plus, aint dis illegal, biatch? Can we please just leave?"
We both stood there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Da only sound dat could be heard was tha electricitizzle up in tha air bein stifled n' smothered by tha damp atmosphere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Finally, I fuckin started ta strutt. I didn’t hear Margaret gangbang me yo, but I kept movin forward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then, "Nathan," her big-ass booty holla'd, "Stop. Please stop." So I stopped.
"I’m sorry," her big-ass booty holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafuckaz! I could hear her movin closer ta mah dirty ass. "I’m chillaxed n' I’m not used ta hustlin n' climbin round n' tha like. I’m just tired."
"It’s all gravy," I holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch gripped mah arm. "Really. It’s fine." I shook mah head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Which way is out, biatch? I don’t remember." I could feel Margaret physically pause. Neither of our asses could remember n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somehow, up in tha mad drama of our argument, I’d forgotten which way our crazy asses had been moving. Idiot, I thought ta mah dirty ass, I should have brought a goddamn rope or suttin' ta trail from tha entrizzle of tha cave. I had ta take action, so without much thought, I turned 180 degrees n' holla'd, "Dis way."
Us thugs strutted fo' what tha fuck seemed ta be hours. My fuckin feet was chillaxed n' sore, n' I could hear Margaret’s groans from behind mah dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch held mah hand tightly. I felt shitty. This was mah fault.
Then, I froze. "Hey yo. Hey," I holla'd, "Put yo' hand out. Feel dis rock." I could hear Margaret’s bare palm press against tha stone. "Isn’t this, like…abnormally warm?" I holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch didn’t say anything. I fuckin started ta work mah way along tha wall, feelin it as I went, shinin tha flashlight up in front of mah dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on mah head as tha ceilin of Tupac’s Grill kicked it wit wit mah scalp.
"Ow! Shiznit!" I shouted.
"Oh, Nathan, is you aiiight?" Margaret asked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch seemed on tha verge of panic now, nahmeean?
"I’m fine," I holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Please, quit trippin' out. We’ll git outta here soon, I promise."
I started again, pointin mah flashlight upwardz now ta peep tha ceilin above mah dirty ass. Well shiiiit, it seemed ta be gettin narrower n' shit. That was strange. "Listen, uh, Margaret, babe," I holla'd all up in clenched teeth, "I be thinkin we gotta turn around." Margaret sighed next ta mah dirty ass.
Again, we strutted fo' a thugged-out decent length. I kept mah flashlight pointed upwardz dis time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sheezy enough, tha space up in tha cave seemed ta become smalla n' smalla n' shit. If there was any resonatin light left up in Tupac’s Grill aside from mah flashlight, I’m shizzle Margaret would done been able ta peep tha whitez of mah eyes, spreadin up in panic. Us thugs was straight-up lost.
I let go of Margaret’s hand n' fuckin started ta feverishly feel mah way along tha walls. "Fuck dat shit, Nathan!" I heard her shout. I kept going. Our thugged-out asses had ta git out. If we was lost, no muthafucka would be able ta find us.
I kept feelin along tha wall until I abruptly hit a cold-ass lil corner n' shit. "Fuck," I holla'd aloud. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Margaret, dis seems ta be a thugged-out dead end." I spun round on mah heel. "Margaret?" No answer n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shiznit.
I fuckin started ta repeat mah process again, almost hustlin as I felt tha wall run past mah fingertips. Cool, damp rocks n' jagged spears. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly, I found mah dirty ass at a cold-ass lil corner again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Fuck fuck fuck," I shouted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. "Margaret!" I was beltin her name up now, nahmeean, biatch? In tha corner of tha cave’s maw where I had been thwarted all kindsa muthafuckin times already, I heard a noise. Well shiiiit, it sounded like muffled static from a televizzle. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I pressed mah ear against tha rock. Well shiiiit, it seemed ta be gettin even warma now, nahmeean, biatch? I heard tha faint soundz of Margaret on tha other side of tha rock. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was screaming.
"No no no," I holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafuckaz! "No no no no no." I fuckin started hustlin haphazardly tha fuck into tha walls round mah dirty ass. With dawnin realization came a wave of sheer horror. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. There was no entrance. There was no exit. Only these four corners n' mah dirty ass.
I could feel blood begin ta trickle from tha cut I managed ta git by bashin mah body tha fuck into tha cave’s walls. They was closin up in on mah dirty ass. They was comin up in fo' tha kill, n' soon they would be pressin up in on mah skull n' crushin mah rib cage.
I sat there fo' hours, waitin fo' dirtnap. My fuckin flashlight was becomin dim n' blinking. Finally, I felt tha soft bust a nut on of these rocky walls press against mah back. I fuckin started ta cry as I lay down on tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I let mah flashlight roll on tha lil' small-ass hillz of stone fo' realz. As I on tha fuckin' down-lowly stayed prone, tears drippin down mah face, I turned n' looked all up in tha flashlight. Its last, fadin beamz of light pointed at suttin' not far away from mah face. I squinted up in tha darkness. My fuckin eyes widened n' I felt tears fall even harder from mah face. Da rocks was piercin mah skin now n' blood dripped from all sides.
There, up in tha last light of mah flashlight, was tha appetizer n' shit. Da spotlight shone on a hand whose nails was painted red, n' I screamed up in agony as I peeped Tupac’s Grill chew its sickest fuckin meal.
{{hrb}}
''Rapped by ''