In a world where money ruled, we hustled to survive, Calculating every move, no time for a dive. Before a surgeon got well-paid for a cut and scientists brewed stronger hormones in their cut. We’re the subjects now, caught in medical schemes, Submitting to practices, chasing false dreams. People don’t read the fine print, coerced to comply, Thinking things aren’t curable, just letting life fly by. I remember the struggle, the tears, and the pain, But now we’re living kings while carrying the chain. I won’t forget my roots or the battles I’ve fought, Grinding through the darkness, scarred by lesson I’ve caught Many ruled the hustle as i faced fears, and stayed strong. I’ll keep pushing forward, guided by my past, Facing fears head-on, this spirit’s built to last. Been my own man even before surgeons got paid for conversions to meet there perversions Now I rise with the hustle, that’s part of my plan. curable