Truthfully, my words are my glock,
They stick into you like Burdock.
You don't want me to talk about Mary Turner
But you didn't mind watchin' when the mob burned her.
You don't like the fact that I'm a young, aspiring King
With so much confidence who desires everything
Good and relates not only to the rich but the hood.
Every day I'm risin' like the Sun over the horizon.
Stop the lyin', stop thinkin' every day I'm dyin'.
The world is mine, this is my era to shine.
My rhymes are prophecy, this is my time.
Topic(s) of this poem: acceptance, confidence, dominance, prophecy, rap, real life, reality, time, truth
Form: Free Verse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.