You know the thing about whooping dead horses
Is that they come back to haunt your ass in ghost mode
Only to become the thing administering the whooping
Now she gats the ghost of a dead horse whooping the melanin off her ass
Shit – she used to say all she can do is stay black and die
Well a bitch is running out of options for her existence

That’s just a bit macabre don’t you think dear
Dead horses and what not – I take it the dead horse is
A metaphor for something that is whooping you at the moment

Hardliner sighs through pursed lips as Ms. Rennah makes an appearance
Decked in her flowing amber robes
With that mischievous – yet mirthful twinkle lighting up her eyes

Not today Ms. Rennah

Tell me your story Griot
The Earth Mother adds with that intuitive smile
That sets Hardliner’s stomach ablaze with – she stops for a moment
Trying for the life of her to figure out what
Cause sista – just lost her train of thought
Either menopause rolled up on her like the low-down
Dirty thief of thought that she is
Or that Hardliner does not truly know what she feels about
Ms. Rennah ferreting out the identity of her dead horse
Righteous indignation maybe can suffice but if she’s honest
It more looks like Ms. Petty has come out to play
And Hardliner is in her Queen era – if there is one thing

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