Stacks and Statues

Kicks dirt in the lane, footprints in the grime,

Pocket lint turned to gold, hustler’s paradigm.

Statuesque grind, frozen in the sands of time,

Chiseled out these rhymes, Mona Lisa in her prime.

Folded bills in my wallet, origami treasure,

Cracks in the pavement reflect my every measure.

Clock loud ticking, fake friends seeking pleasure,

Life’s a slaughterhouse; every day feels fresher.

Stones in my path, but I skate like it’s frozen,

One life to live, every choice is chosen.

From the shadows to the top where the throne is,

Crowning my grind, witness how the flow’s golden.

Pen’s a scythe, I harvest my mental fields,

Word swords sharp, cut clean, no shield.

Dreamed of kingdoms when the world wouldn't yield,

Turn trap into glory, a hustler’s only deal.

Chains clinking like keys to the freedom door,

Turn pain into power; the people want more.

Echoes of my story scrawled across the floor,

Graffiti of a life that the struggle once tore.

Stones in my path, but I skate like it’s frozen,

One life to live, every choice is chosen.

From the shadows to the top where the throne is,

Crowning my grind, witness how the flow’s golden.