By the sword
Ya mum dead,
To death bled,
Ya dad fled,
For fear of the feds.
Now miles ahead,
I still hear his word,
'Kill him, by the sword',
'Or spare him for the wood'.
Now come here,
And get me clear.
A milli on you,
Willing to pay?
No, willing to die.
Now in ya thirty,
Not a penny,
A knife is handy,
To end you like many.
Tie that neck,
To there at the back,
Tie those feet,
The same treat,
Slice it neat,
Then bury him next,
To his mother,
To be complete.
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Comments about this poem (By the sword by Hudhaifah Siyad )
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