I Fell In Love With A Stripper

Who are we to judge who a person falls in love with?
All that should matters is if that person is on bullshit
If they treat you right and sometimes spend the night
Their occupation really shouldn’t matter right?
Don’t mind me, I’m just rationalizing a couple things
Like how I met this girl in the strip club & now I’m considering wedding rings
She got me considering all types of things, I didn’t even know I liked these things
While I’m focused on heavy stuff, she reminds me of the lighter things
She’s kinda crazy though? My ex? She tried to light her things
Bought the match, the gasoline, didn’t know she liked fire things
She says she used to date a fire fighter but he didn’t see the good inside her
He just knew her occupation and prayed that no other man was inside her
He cast the first stone of judgment and though the attention she loves it
She just wants to be desired in private as much as she is in public
Sometimes the most beautiful people are the most insecure
Like rich people only assume everyone sees them as a credit score
Just like she prays to God that I don’t view her as a whore
But I got to know her and her private side, no metaphor
Sometimes a bad girl, realizes that a good guy is better for her
She had a lot of boyfriends but they were never for her
So I try not to judge her past or let that cloud my present
I just hope she doesn’t mention work around my momma’s presence
And she hopefully says the right things when my mom gives her presents
Damn, I think I might love her, now I gotta make sure I have momma’s blessings
Meanwhile I’m praying that none of my homies recognize her from the strip club
Like “remember the lightskin chick with the curly hair and the fat butt?”
“Oh the one who climbed up to the top of the pole and hit the splits”
“Yeah, I think our boy Diddy done wifed that chick!”

I can only imagine the rest of that conversation, doesn’t end too well for me
But my girl is a loyal girl, if I sold drugs, she probably sell for me
If I needed her to snitch, she’d turn into the biggest tattle tell for me
But if she ever caught me cheating, she told me that it would be hell for me
But truth be told, it’s hard not to get jealous when your girl is a stripper
You want her to make money but your nervous on why the guys tip her
You’re always uncertain on whether or not she’ll leave for another mister
But your boys tell you that because she’s a stripper you’re not allowed to miss her
I grew up in the church, imagine how this is gonna play to the minister
We both don’t have a passport but she wants to fly to the Dominican
This here is a crazy ass predicament, couldn’t even predict this shit
If I ever made her choose the profession or me, you’d think she quit the shit?
That’s a great question with no good answer, and damn she is a good dancer
But the way my wallet’s set up, I can’t make it rain dear, I’m not prancer
I’m not Rudolph and I’m not Blitzen, if the money goes, will you go missing?
When I dreamed up my dream girl, never thought I meet her stripping.

This entry was posted in creatvity, dating, poems and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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