Wouldn't even stop to talk to the average kid
Fuck the horse and carriage shit, her love was never for hire
Disciplined, intellectual beauty's what I desire
Everyone told me, kickin' it to her was hopeless
Her eyes are brown and beautiful, yet empty and sad
I used to talk to her occasionally, and she was glad
That I wasn't just another nigga trying to get in it
I never tried to sneak a touch, or even cop a feel
I was too interested, in keeping it real"
I used to talk to her occasionally, and she was glad
That I wasn't just another nigga trying to get in it
I never tried to sneak a touch, or even cop a feel
I was too interested, in keeping it real"
Sidenote: If you are a loyal fan or reader of the Post Secret site, they need your help! If you are interested in this site's continued success, please spare a little bit of your money in buying a book (from Urban Outfitters or Chapters). I was blessed to have received a book just this year for Valentines and I'm now eager to add on to that collection this holiday. The cost of the book is incomparable to the refreshing sanity those shared post cards provide you, remember that. Plus, it makes for a simple yet pleasant gift this Christmas. Thanks viewers!
Now, with those topics out of the way I must get back to desperately trying to keep my eyes open. Imagine coming home at midnight from an 8 hour shift just last night and having an opening shift starting at 8. But! No coffee for me, just my deelish Jasmine green tea. Ohhh the sweet, sweet money to justify the brutality of back-to-back shifts. GOOD MORNING.
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