Met you at Stratford Theatre
Behind the facades backstage
You gave me your number
Trips to White City council estate
Where the fresh faced writers passed through
You paid for ya boy's studio session
Nurturing the talents around you
Your style made me want to write
Rappers know about rhythm
You were crazy but we respected you
Reticent mouthed
You passed my music on
It found the hands of those
Contacts built
Couldn't do this off your back
Years have passed
You wouldn't've guessed
The issues passed and faced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem