Graffiti Be Nice

 

Born from the light of the star seed,  

Brought to the earth to be the remedy.  

Everlasting line to the king who shines,  

Rising up as the one radiating the true vine.

On the birth certificate will be known from being from Brooklyn,  

As the graffiti be nice on this canvas of life.  

Where claiming my city is proving me witty,  

Each scratch a mark of growing up, gritty.

In the heart of this urban sprawl,  

I find my soul, standing tall.  

With roots deep in the city's core,  

My spirit soars, forevermore.

For in the blend of concrete and dreams,  

I pump my tale in vibrant streams.  

Brooklyn's pulse, my rhyming beat,  

on every corner, on every street.

Radiating light, beaming sunshine,  

From the star seed, I draw the line.  

Above the hope, a loving sign,  

In this life, my truth aligns.