Not just a raga muffin,
Not just a Rasta man,
Not just a mop head boy,
Not just a neighbourhood guy,
Not just another face in the crowd,
Not just another brother from the south,
I am more than what meets the eye,
More than average,
More than just a man.
You would get a glimpse of who I truly am if you knew what I’ve been through,
If you knew what I have conquered throughout my life.
I am the stone that the builders refused,
Because they too failed to see my use,
They tossed me asunder because of my deformity and my undesirable shape,
They said my jagged-edges would render their structure weak and unstable.
Little did they know that I would turn out the way that I did,
To be exactly what they needed all along,
The only ornament in their rapidly deteriorating castle,
The only resolution to their many problems.