Mariah Carey Syndrome

by RIP



Why?,
Tell me why do you still believe?,
Is it the grief in my heart that you wish to retrieve?,
We agreed breaking up would be for the best,
Yet your still putting my decision to the test,
I did everything I could to be your friend,
But this stuck in the past bullshit must end,
I guess me with another you just couldnít stand,
Are you that stuck on the idea of me being your man?
Did I give you some hope that I just didnít see?
That made you wear out the batteries on my Caller I.D.,
Cause Iíve tried to move on,
But you wonít give me no peace,
Following me around town like youíre the fuckin police,
Scaring women away,
Have you lost your mind?
That common sense you threw away,
You need to go find,
Got no better days,
Cause your jealous ways,
Has my love life stuck in a fuckin daze,
I thought it would pass,
Like some kind of phase,
Now Iím sitting here listening to Frankie Beverly and Maze,
Joy and Pain,
Think Iím going insane,
Cause your making me grieve,
And you have the nerve to call my crib talking bout ďI still believeĒ,
Nigga please!
You have got izzues (not issues but izzues) you need to let go,
But first I have some answers that I really I need to know,
Like the day you saw me and my date at the bank,
And the next day I got sugar floating around in my tank,
Or when you trailed me to the show with my brown sexy slim,
And I come outside to find her shit is sitting on rims,
Or when I tried to leave town,
But didnít get too far,
Cause you keyed ďI Still BelieveĒ in the driverís side of my car,
Or when I went to California,
For some romance in the smog,
Come back and you poured hot grits all over my dog,
Or when you broke into my crib,
Like you had a free pass,
Taking hair out of my brush to put a root on my ass,
That one was funny I must admit,
But the jokes are over,  
Canít take no more shit,
Your time is up baby,
And this is the last,
Cause Mariah might be on fire,
But when I get to your ass you will go higher,
So I must retire,
Any knowledge of you,
For you do certain things,
That most women wouldnít do,
So face the music,
For your trapped and canít leave,
Our existence is over,
And thatís a fact,
If you believe anything,
You better believe that,
Faí Real!


Mariah Carey Syndrome by RIP

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.


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