My pen weighs
Heavy like the Roots of Kunta Kinte
The sweeter the juice
is what my kin say
An evening boost
for seasoning fruit
to get paid
You've seen me in bloom
for many a moon
so get saved
Pedal the petals to give praise
I get raised to get rays
A never ending cycle in the womb of what my pen lays

Shrouding word in mystery
Message too smooth for censoring
I read that it was written
They would ink our place in history