fuck me or pay me $

Call it “45 Shells & Silk Sheets,” let’s ride. I roll through the corners where the neon bleeds red, Pimps in silk robes, hoes with eyes like lead. Forty-five tucked, chrome cold as a grave— One wrong look, and your whole crew’s paved. Street smarts sharper than a switchblade kiss, Hookers whisper prices, lips taste like risk. Gangbang nights, bodies stacked like bricks— Love’s just a transaction, cash over tricks. Shells in the clip, shells in the mattress— Prostitutes pray while the johns get savage. From the trap to the telly, same damn game— Forty-five talks loud, silence screams my name. Yeah, we live it—blood on the pavement, Hooker heels clickin’, heartbeats pavement. She said “baby, come quick,” but her eyes said “run,” Pockets full of twenties, soul already done. Gangsta lean on the wall, smoke curlin’ slow— One shot to the dome, now the party won’t grow. Macten on the burner, barrel still warm— Told her “keep it quiet,” she screamed like a storm. Prostitute poetry: “Fuck me or pay me,” Either way, dawn comes—nobody saves me. Yeah… this ain’t love, this ain’t lust— This is survival in a city that busts. Every dollar’s a scar, every moan’s a plea— Street smarts say: trust no one, least of all me. Backseat blowjobs for a fifty and a ride, Gangbang circle—nobody’s on your side. Forty-five clicks, echo off brick— One less mouth to feed, one less trick. Shell casings sparkle like cheap-ass diamonds, Hookers count scars while the johns keep climbin’. Prostitute gospel: “God don’t watch this block,” So I cock the hammer—let the devil talk. Yeah… we out here. No heroes, no hope—just shells and smoke. Street smarts, baby Cops roll slow, lights flash like a joke, Sirens sing lullabies while the block stays ! choked. I duck in the alley, breath foggin’ the glass— Forty-five heavy, like a promise that lasts. She said “one more night,” but her voice cracked thin— I told her “one more lie, then I’m gone again.” Gangbang ghosts haunt the corners I pass— Faces I buried, still laughin’ through ash. Prostitute prayers bounce off concrete walls— “Lord, if you’re listenin’, just let me stall.” But the devil don’t answer—he just collects rent, Takes your soul in installments, no discount, no scent. Shells hit the floor like applause from the dead— Every click’s a curtain call, every round’s a thread. Hookers trade dreams for a twenty and a fix— I trade mine for silence, for the next hit. Macten in my palm, barrel kissin’ my wrist— One squeeze, one sigh—then the whole world twists. No heroes, no hope—just the echo of boots, Street smarts whisper: “Keep movin’, don’t shoot.” But I do. And the night swallows me whole. I slide through the shadows, past the busted streetlights, Where the crackheads preach sermons and the dealers play dice. One eye on the rearview, one on the clip— Forty-five loaded, like a lover with a grip. She texts me “come back,” but I ghost like a phantom— Love’s just another hustle, same as the anthem. Gangbang scars on my knuckles, still fresh— Told ‘em “step up,” now they sleepin’ on the bench. Prostitute tears dry fast in the wind— She said “I love you,” but her hand’s on my chin. Shells in my pocket, jingle like loose change— Every round’s a memory, every shot’s a stage. Macten hums low, like a lullaby gone wrong— I cock it slow, let the devil sing along. No heroes, no hope—just the taste of gun oil, Street smarts say: “Breathe deep, then spoil.” I walk past the church—stained glass cracked wide— Inside, a preacher’s prayin’ for the dead I supplied. Hookers line the curb, heels like knives— One smiles at me, says “baby, you alive?” I laugh, spit blood, wipe it on my sleeve— “Alive? Nah, just waitin’ for the next reprieve.” Forty-five whispers: “One more, then you’re free,” But freedom’s a myth—it’s just another fee. Yeah… we out here. No light at the end—just the flash of the muzzle, And the devil’s still laughin’, loud as a puzzle.