Mr. Competitive

who am i... willie stallworth,
but who is beneath,
a money makin hustlah,
or a common well known thief,
try a black male trying to do somethin wit his life,
focusing on his career and think he's found a wife,
born in the ghetto and raised in the hood,
everything promised to me wasn't good,
no father so ma uncle played the father role,
he did a good job but died when i was 5 years old,
raised by a mom who did it on her own,
kept me by her side when i felt alone,
now im almost a grown man juss 2 more years to go,
im gonna take care of ma momma more than she will ever know,
why i wrote this poem cuz they say im one of a kind,
really im juss a young talented brothah whose speakin ma mind.