Brooklyn streets, concrete symphony,
echoing footsteps, a life in a symphony.
He walked the line, hustled for his dream,
a poet with a mic, a lyrical scheme.
From Junior M.A.F.I.A. to Biggie,
a name that resonated, a legend in the city.
Juicy rhymes, smooth flow, a lyrical fire,
a voice of the streets, a rising desire.
He spoke of love, of pain, of struggle and strife,
a truthteller, a mirror to the life.
He painted pictures, vivid and bold,
stories of survival, stories untold.
But the shadows grew, the streets took their toll,
a king in his prime, a tragic, dark stroll.
He left us too soon, a legend cut short,
his legacy echoes, a lyrical retort.
Biggie lives on, in the beat of the rhyme,
a voice of the people, forever sublime.
His words resonate, his spirit unfurls,
the Notorious B.I.G., a legend that swirls.