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Poem

Yo, I say yo,
Don’t go until you here this,
This bliss, don’t dismiss, my message,
I know 8 mc’s, 7 in physical form, one in spiritual essence,
We got presence,
It all started, with the Jerry G Lucas,
And then Lucas Jr.
He will school ya,
And Melba, the compassionate,
Castin’ it aside, all notions of herself,
In a symphony of sacrifice,
And then there’s me the poet scholar,
I wear a colla,
Of slayin’ beasts of hatred,
But I’m elated,
Because I found ha,
The christocentric, Madonna,
Who set my world on fire,
She’s no lia,
She claims the desire,
Of minions of millions of men,
Who envy my wisdom,
In choosin’ this venus,
Who gave birth to the child of light,
I mean a warrior of right,
Autumn, the season of joy,
And with little Woodrow, we make seven,
We going to heaven,
And leadin’ the world there,
Gerald G Junior, He’ll school ya,
With business elasticity,
And he’ll help you see,
The light of common urgency,
The magnificent 7, and with Christ we make 8,
The numba of new beginnin’s 
Sending, minions, to lendin’ love, and covetin’ kindness,
Can you rhyme this,
It all started with the patriarch,
He had no fatha,
But with his iron will,
He became the transcendent,
You can’t bend it,
His fist of fury,
With methodical precision,
He makes ya listen,
And can you understand, this man, of the ages?
Maybe so, maybe not,
But can’t no one stop us,
Cause we a clan, 
Of the all mighty,
Shine bright we,
Will change the face of Arrakis,
Amen.

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