I was the king with no throne,
             I only sat upon the curb..

My crown was my neighbourhood,
   and all that did surround...

I'll never disrespect my brethren,
             for they stand by my side,

behind me, in front to protect we, us
           all from the idioms of who


think that this land is free verse,

     never this is a rhyme of colours
           that'll write that this is our

street and others neither may stand

                              or bellowing there

right to stand on land sacred to our
                                                  families.

we don't fight with swords,
           but our metal will pierce like
cut from a far we are the knights of
                                our neighbourhood.

I don't sit on a thrown, on a kerb I gaze
              around I wear no crown...

But everyone knows I'm king and ill
           bury metal in you like a sword
pieced the stone.

Like that you'll be cold,
metal not pulled but
                          rather calved out..