You know you done fucked up, right?
Sitting the corner looking for come ups.
Don’t piss me off trying to play Big P,
You know you wasn’t built like that,
You know you couldn’t handle no ass like that.
She has on Monet,
While you have on secrets.
Something of the same,
But never last in the frame.
When I wrote “Big P,” I wasn’t just talking, but I was observing. Watching how people mimic power but never master presence. The poem speaks from that still place between knowing and exposing, where truth doesn’t need to shout. “Monet” and “secrets” became symbols of one eternal, one fading. I wanted to show the quiet difference between art and imitation, grace and performance.
“Big P” isn’t about arrogance; it’s about awareness. It’s a mirror held up to those pretending to play a role they were never meant to audition for. And in that mirror, I let silence speak louder than confrontation.
