first poem writen,

by a man who isn't sittin,

on my,

dreams, I be livin'

in the city they call emerald city,

but thats the start of it,

you'll see I bring a part of,

myself, 

in every letter that I spell

I put my soul into,

like a spit on the mic,

growing up never thought life was this nice

people like ice so cold, 

say you've "dropped the flow,"

watch me come back like "I got the gold,"

but I won't get slow

no, thats what I've been told,

I wont stop now till my names in your household