I was listening to Shirley Brown’s Woman to Woman, and I was just like “You know what? Shirley was TRIPPING.” So I decided to write her a sternly-worded letter.
In case you’ont know what song I’m talmbout, see below:
“Hey Barbara, this is Shirley. You might not know who I am…”
First of all, just because you were being nosy and going through YOUR man’s pockets don’t mean for you to be making errant phonecalls all willy nilly to whoever you found info on in there.
And yes, you found her name and number in his pockets but you jumping to conclusions talmbout the man she’s in love with. You’ont e’em know Barbara’s life like that! You’ont know her from a can of paint. She coulda been helping him do his taxes or something. She coulda been his piano teacher! Or MAYBE she’s the person who does his dry cleaning. YOU DON’T KNOW BARBARA’s LIFE, MA’AM!!!
Going from 0-60 with no proof. And then gon talk about it’s only fair. What’s FAIR is if you’ont call random people checking up on your boo’s activities, illicit or otherwise!
Furthermore, you up there talmbout he’s yours from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Lemme find out you’re God’s personal assistant. How do you own a grown ass man? Did you pay for him? SHOW ME RECEIPTS! Yes, you pay his car note and buy his clothes. But all that proves is that he’s a gold-digger and you’re his sugar mama. Shirley, you’re losing girl. What has he done for you lately? Lowkey, he’s playing you like a cello in the arms of Yo-Yo Ma.
You over here paying for his everything and then he MIGHT be stepping out. And you wanna call the woman he MIGHT be cheating with talmbout you wanna keep him. It sounds to me like he ain’t worth the lint in Rick Ross’ belly button. He might not be worth a loc off Lil Wayne’s head. But you sitting up here calling Barbara on some “woman to woman” stuff asking her to understand that he’s your man, not hers. WOMP!
Girl, listen to me. Drop ol’ boy. Not e’em because he might be cheating but because he seems about as useful as a broken butter knife. Besides, if he wants to be sleeping with Barbara or anybody else for that matter then he’s not e’em worth it. He takes all your efforts for granted.
You better put on your “F*ck him, girl” dress and go drop it like it’s hot at a club. Find you a new boo!
And as for you, Barbara. I hope you’re not being a side chick. That’s not cute. Get your own man, not Shirley’s leftovers.
Ennehweighs, girl. CALL ME!
Whatcha’ll gotta say to Shirley?