I am a product extracted from an era, an era of grief, poverty, and terror. Fruits like a fruit, *** like foreign goods, now all of mine overpopulate neighborhoods. These thoughts I retain cannot remain inside me. If people had their way, they'd probably want to hide me. But never should they think of me as just dust. I am not the lint for them to just brush. Hundreds of years under the fog of, and them are calling me Underdog. They want prepare me, they want to shame me. But I make them suffer when they want amusement. And I make them suffer when they want entertainment. Underdog become the champion. Underdog become the champion. Because they know who I am, they dare not laugh. My skills stem further from mere arts and crafts. I am a builder who's created many nations. To the time of now, from the start of plantations. Through all the cities and all the neighborhoods. My meaning's overlooked and I'm never understood. My mind and body is feared when used together. Not only am I strong, but also clever. My anatomy is similar, yet it's unique. With strength and coordination and a stone hard physique. But be that as it may, I am denied what I earn. With this force of knowledge, I cannot hide what I've learned. Any place, any structure, any land, I'm the owner. The founder, the father, the labor donor. Any invention discovered, I own the rights. My people and I shared many sleepless nights. And even after this, they still don't believe. That I can advance and grow and achieve. Just as they can, or maybe even better. They try to hold me back like a book holds letters. But I won't be ignored and I'll fight through the fall. So it does not hurt when they call me the underdog.