GANGSTER LOVE POEMS

You a thug smitten by cupid’s arrow? Perhaps you head over heels ova a gangsta. Gangster Love Poems from the writers at My Word Wizard know just how you feel with this totally dope collection all about love in the hood.



It ain’t easy being involved with yo boo when you livin’ the thug life. The street pulls you one way, and you boo pulls you the other. What’s a thug to do!! And for you shorties, we know it ain’t no picnic trying to get that homie to settle down. But you determined to do just that!



We hope you will enjoy these modern day Romeo and Juliet verses written with the thug and his boo in mind.









I'm Feelin You, Gurl

I’m feelin you, Gurl.

I’s for real.

Want you to be my shortie

That’s the deal.

I may not talk all

Fancy and shit.

But a real man

Ain’t gotta talk

About what he’s got.

You just need to know

I’m feelin you a whole lot.



What You Say

You doing what you say

Has to be done,

But my life with you,

Is no longer fun.

You hanging

With your homies everyday;

I’m sitting home with the baby

Thinking of the words to pray…

As the bullets fly

Through the windows of our home.

You’re no longer a little boy

Just playing a game.

This gangster shit

Is getting so damn lame!



My Man's Probation

My man John

Knew he’d get probation

On his first offense.

His damn ass

Never had no sense.

What was he thinking

When he shot

An undercover cop

In a parking lot

Over the use

Of a f++++++ handicapped spot.

Now John is sitting in a cell

Fighting for his life;

His cellmate stabbed

Him in the heart

With a homemade knife.



No Ice

This girl don’t need

A fancy car.

Don’t need the ice

That selling dope can bring.

All I want is a man

Who is feeling me, aight?

Someone to love me

And hold me tight.

If you are digging

What I’ve got to say

I’m not one

You have to pay

To play.



Yo Momma Don't Text

Who you think you playin?

Ain’t no fool.

Before I met you,

I ruled in school.

Yo momma don’t text;

She ain’t even got

A cell phone;

Yo ass out creepin

While I sit home alone.

You ain’t playin me,

But you just been played.

Keeping looking for yo stash

I just got paid,

And I’m Out.



Poetry by Natasha Niemi