My Baby Thug

How is it to love a thug you ask?
Well, happy and loving he is,
With all his muscles and wits, I know we’ll last.
He goes out every night to bash another guy,
Punch, wack thump,
He’ll make them cry.
He comes home with blood on his hands,
I love him so much,
Every piece of me, he understands
He walks through the door holding a crow bar or baseball bat,
Sometimes a dying body,
but I love him anyway,
I don’t mind any of that,
He’ll bring home all his polite, friendly, gang members
I’ll be sweet and nice,
They all have very good tempers.
My thug’s so sweet and cute,
I want us to have a family
But off I go to jail,
My baby thug framed me.