Which Tupac claimed inspired "Dear Mama", a classic track,

yes, you must agree, the lyrics infallible,

just how the flow in "Juicy" is infallible.

The Wire—infallible,

Denzel in Malcolm X—must I even say it?—infallible.

So too, Omar Little, a legend in our streets,

right up there next to Stringer Bell.

I never say pawn in my poems—

the Kings stay Kings, everything else

gets caught up in the game.

Which brings me back to Malcolm X,

Denzel preaching:

 "We didn't land on Plymouth Rock—The rock landed on us."

My OG says the same when I call and talk

about the system or the struggle—

Now we're behind tinted windows,

past close enough to touch.

Masked up—not for COVID

but to dodge the cameras,

to black a memory of who we used to be.

Once wore our troubles heavy,

now they're light as air—

no need for steel, just need for prayer.

I see your glances, searching for the bling,

but true wealth's in the mind, not the external thing.

Women came and went, like verse in a rhyme,

drunk on false hope, I was lost for a time.

But I'm clear now, scripting the life I choose,

fighting inner fires, not just blowing smoke for views.

My riches are in scars, in the days I wish I could undo—

but every fall taught me to rise, and that lesson rings true.

There's strength in the quiet,

in knowing when to pause,

even when the beat drops

and tempts you to ignore laws.

The pursuit became the destruction of souls,

A few dollars more, the price became our shared demise.

So call me hoarse, my voice is from the trenches,

but don't ask what's next—

 I've left doubt on the benches.