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..
i