Allen Iverson aka the wounded warrior.
Street soldier.
True baller.
Our "little" brother.
Our "little" Lion King.
The swagger in his walk.
Made his chain swing.
From side-to-side.
Praised and crucified.
But still I Rise.
Look at the pain in his eyes.
Hat-tilted to the side.
It's the Return of Jedi
Code name A.I. "Do or Die"
Top Ten
Dead or Alive>
Cause this 76er could light-up the Sky.
Like the 4th of July.
Our little Tupac with a wicked jump shot.
Harassed by the Hip-hop cops.
So skinny and slim. In an over-sized pair of Tims.
But the ladies still love him.The Ghetto made him crazy.
Mamma's baby. Daddy's maybe.
Criticized for missing practice.
Baptized by John the Baptist.
The realist.
Real Philly "Kats" can feel this.
Simply the best. The Star shines in the East
Even upon the West. Take heed to the Words
That I Manifest. God Bless.
Jesus Christ.
The Kid is nice.
He is battered, bruised, and tattooed
But he refused to lose
Even when the cheers turned to boos.
We still loved this dude.
Because he was us, Is us,
So Strong. So Tough.
The World is not Enough,They wanted him locked up
In Handcuffs
His Afro was his halo.My Hero. Your Heru.
He is too good to be true.
He looks like me and you.
Loved by a Few.
Hated by Many.
He gave the NBA street credibility.
The true King of Philly.
He rocked African braids and a do-rag.
Let his pants sag.
On the court, I love the way he zig-zagged.
I don't mean to brag
But Damn he's good.
He is loved in the hood.
I loved the way he played the game
With the bounce of a Hip-Hop beat.
His killer cross-over left Jordan bend over biting his own tongue.
Forever young.
Competition is none.
Philly's favorite son.
Allen Iverson.
From one brother to another. I love ya.
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