Adam Williams
Recover... Trying to learn how to recover— I can’t front—drugs was my “lover.” I’ll fight, shoot, and even kill for “my lover,” Damn right, I will... My first “lover” was named Old Gold. I was in love at 13 years old. She made me feel strong and gave me hope, She let me make out with her friends— one’s name was Coke. We would go to clubs, even house parties, where I met this girl by the name of Bacardi. Old Gold was still there, but sort of a tease, So I chilled with this joint let’s call her Weed. She made me laugh at stuff that wasn’t funny— not like Coke— I’d still wake up with money. But the money I lost, I’ll get back by pimpin’ this hooker by the name of Crack— she made me mad cheddar so now I can treat all the others better. She wanted me, And I wanted her too…
But the others said “Mess with her & we’re all through.” So I’ll sneak around with her, a little taste. She couldn’t wait ‘til I went to first base. She wasn’t funny, but she got my hype, I never felt it ‘til I hit “the pipe.” I said, “Forget the others, she’s the prize.” I wish I would have known THEY WERE ALL LIES! She took me places I thought I’d never go. She flipped the switch and made ME her “ho.” I’d go out all times of night looking for her while chasing the pipe. Get her! Use her! And fly out the door, ‘cause the pipe was empty— I needed more. SAD, I wasted the life my Higher Power gave me— rather feed the pipe than my own baby. Situations 75
