Later for John Keats - Biggie Smalls The Greatest English Language Poet In 300 Years

All I want is bitches, big booty bitches
Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches
Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches
from stayin in my business, what is this? Relentless
approach, to know if I'm broke or not
Just cause I joke and smoke a lot
Don't mean I don't tote the glock
Sixteen shots for my niggaz in the pen
Until we motherfuckin meet again
Huh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes now
Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now
Cause I'm knee deep in the beats
In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats
For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers AND THE BLUE SUITS,
I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof
Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks
I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dick
The funk baby

Ode On Melancholy
No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;