The self proclaimed Jay Hova has returned, he's back,
That interviewer played it safe, all the questions were crap,
Everything that comes out of his mouth now sounds wack,
Claiming to be for the culture but thinks there shouldn't be battle rap,
Covering one eye with a mask and in the red room, what's up with that?
Damage control but nothing was really addressed,
No truth in sight, Jiggaman needs to finally confess.
If you cross him or Beyoncé you'll be silenced one way,
I heard him and Will Smith were in bed together and both really gay,
No mention of Diddy, R.Kelly or Weinstein, the Black Boulé.
Proclaimed to not give a fuck what you think about the rich,
Snitched on Beanie Sigel, head of the Roc is a puppet master's bitch.
Claims to have morals but it can't be further from the truth,
Bumming Basquiat's dreadlocks and whole style, a closeted poof.
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: March 28th, 2026 05:24
- Comment from author about the poem: https://x.com/callmediva405/status/2037521269759803882?s=20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
Wrapped in rap this piece critiques the establishment with rhyme of rath. Well done
Thank you.
I don't know what you were going on about, but I liked it!
No worries aha.
I don't know the guy much! lol.
Reading this feels like those moments where trust in public figures just snaps…where everything starts to feel staged or controlled, and the frustration boils over. That kind of energy is hard to contain, and you let it out fully here. I felt that intensity. Strong work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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