They are pleased with us for we have won. And the story they know is a one paged letter over a theory of a hustler

What they see has captured them. Gossiping over drops of goals and blind to the liters of fortune

But we won right from ages. The toddlers that cried and drunk their pain to smile

The battles we have fought only the scars can tell. Each carry’s a book of tales in a soak of sweetened vinegar

Now the glow on my face gives them goose bumps

It wasn’t an overnight battle

My blood boils for success I haven’t touched yet many admire the grip of what’s at hand

I am a lame ***** with a straight mind, wrinkled wrists with a focused look

Ahem to like less for I am made of a future tamed by my bloodline of hustle, it’s so deep to be estimated so lucky to fail

Burry thy dynamite, the world blew me up at a young age. So no blasts tease my stand to win

I am made of more, much more that many in the a lot