Draft from New Book
Ghetto Slam Draft
Copywritten so dont copy me
Copyright Crystal Evans 2014
The sweet melody of dance hall music emanated from Strawberry Hill and the slender bodies of females strew the sidewalks, faces dolled up, animated, scanning the promenading vehicles for a companion for the night. In these streets girls treated sex like a handshake and men were only interested in getting ahead in life, literally. Bitches readily exchanged tongue titillation for five thousand dollar platforms. For the right price, girls would be in love. Iggy Azaela best called it Head over Heels.
Popular men stood at the bar and cliques of female a few feet apart orchestrated stealth espionage on the latest money prey. The brave one even in the face of uncertainity will strut over, sticking her ass out for a boss chick knows how to flirt without ever making herself appear desperate or easy. These Niggas might not have degrees in human behaviour but they can spot a thirsty chick from a mile off. Some niggas are slow and you sometimes have to dangle your vagina before them for them to get the hint, then if he is stupid he will lap that shit up like Hennessy.
If a nigga has money, good social clout and great reference on his dick game then even the bossiest of chicks will wait her turn. She will express her interest, give a little and retain some for to make a nigga know you going crazy over his dick even when "it a mad you" is relationship suicide. Some girls get this game of tangle free relationships, others basically go to the Dance Hall to drool, lining up to give some undeserving nigga head. They show up for every pot cover that knocked, pouting lips,rubbing their nipples on outstretch hands and touching men's shoulders to test it's strength, thinking about how these dude's penis must hang between their legs rocking to and fro like a pendulum.
You couldn't keep a man tuned into you if you were not talking about sex. Men were concerned with two things, sex and money. If you were not offering either then you might as well waltz over to where the other wallflowers stood, ogling the assortment of men in matching abercombie slippers.
Ghetto Slam is not primarily about sex, it the ambiance of the sexual scenario, an unleashing of sexual energy. It is carnal and torrid, as provocative as the Wimbledon movement Popcaan discussed in his Fall In Love tune. Wimbledon was that jerking of the ass, rapid shuffling of the buttocks against a man in the doggy style position.
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