Owning What’s Mine

People just look like food to me

The fridge is full of wholesome goodness–that’s cool to me

Restoring a firmer purpose to the art of writing

I say peace to the non-believers, they can continue fighting

No man has ever done what I can create with the pen

I’m instilling a new born strength in other men

As far as the women go, they love me, graciously

I show them their inner-beauty, faithfully

I went from nothing to something; bigger than the eyes could fathom

The connects I have are never ending, like the magic carpet on Aladdin

The queen is by my side, she’s flyer than Jasmine

I resurrect facts out of a deeper chasm

Came for the jugular in all different directions

An efficient mode of attack; that required inspection

I’m the one responsible for bringing writers migraines

I own this writing world, I stay fly through the pain

I see ink being wasted, brain cells aren’t working to full capacity

Read what I write, you will be full of veracious, tenacity

Being the best has come naturally, like the sun shining

There isn’t one day on this planet that I’m done grinding

Who said they would stop me was lying

They were secretly behind closed doors crying

The capital I hold hasn’t made me cold

It only changed my circumstances, as I grow old

My novels sell rapidly, like lottery tickets

Allah has blessed me, I’m not wicked

My poetry sells like dime bags of weed

I become richer from every word you read

The short-stories won competition’s, gave me full exposure

The fans didn’t want them to end, but we all need closure

Scriptwriter on the low key, is a small part of my future

Sliding under the radar, like a ghost, cause I’m super

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