This is for my unsung heroes who rose to the moment.

Faced down they faked out the weight of opponents.

Blood boiling. Filled with emotions.

Block built off tilts. They still stayed focused.

For my brothers in the motherland homeless.

For my mothers on welfare in Oakland.

For the many stockbrokers to broke men.

We lock shoulders promoting a slogan:

Living life like it’s golden. Chosen.

Raising nations. Quoting slogans over stolen lands.

My grandmama with her swollen hands.

Fam, who climb over boulders.

Bubble like soda. They thought we were broken.

Tell Wall street controllers the game’s over.

Ryan Lucas, the foot soldier and I’m roasted.

Delivering the goodness. P-I-O’s postman.

RyanLucasDC.com