Says she doesn’t know how she got here, and she needs a ride back to Southeast DC, or 35 cents.
If she would’ve come here a year ago, I might have been somewhat willing to help her out, regardless of the story she’s telling, which makes no sense. However, after what happened to me and my boy back in March, I’ve made a vow not to help random folks out above offering a little piece of change.
“She would be my queen, I could be her king, together. She would make me cool, and we would both rule, forever. And I would never feel pain and never be without pleasure, ever, again. And if the rain stops, and everything’s dry.. She would cry, just so I could drink the tears from her eyes. She’d teach my how to fly, even cushion my fall. If my engines ever stall, and I plummet from the sky, but she would keep me high. And if I ever die, she would commission my image on her bosom, to him. Or maybe she’d retire as well. A match made in Heaven set the fires in Hell.”—Lupe (The Coolest)