Tight pants cut sharp like a hustler’s blade, Golf shirt crisp, like a deal well-played. Kufi crown shining, that’s my rooftop dome, Carrying the wisdom of a thousand-year poem. Jesus Piece swinging like a streetlight glow, Faith iced out but the spirit still grow. Under Armour kicks like engines on the run, Moving through the struggle till the victory’s won. Swagger talk scriptures in a cipher with the beat, Holy mixed with hustle, faith laced in the street. It whispers: “I’m chosen, but I’m grounded in the grind, My style is a sermon, every stitch is a sign.”