Static in the humidity.
A shadow on the fence line.
Sneak through the grass in the Sunshine State,
Tripped the alarm at the garden gate.
He’s packing a secret beneath the lace,
Customized curves for a cold embrace.
Bust line heavy with a hollow-point heater,
Double-D danger, a real world-beater.
Bust it wide open, Florida’s finest,
Silicone armor where the silver line is.
He’s got the glock in the cups,
When the cuffs click shut,
It’s a prosthetic combat, what?
Soft to the touch.
Hard to the bone.
Magazines tucked in a comfort zone.
One slip of the strap,
One hell of a trap.
One hell of a mugshot.
Keep your eyes up here, officer.
It’s just a loaded silhouette.
Case closed.
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