You better wash yo clothes brah, What kinda dirt is on you... Only god knows brah, Put everythang, in the washing machine use a lotta soap, and hope them mugs come clean. Your hands are red like that shirt. I can hear you now, " Naw, baby she was just a flirt". Trying to make everything, fresh, look good and smell nice, but you wouldn't have to, if you would have came home to her last night. You played your old lady like I did that videogame: Put my quarter in hard and fast, For temporary enjoyment, you knew it wouldn't last. Now you're in a rush to clean your slate, But Ms. Jones came over my house last night... You too late brah, you too late. JOSEPH