Isaac Is The Champ by Bloodlined Calligraphy
Hold on to everything you have, before it slips through your hands.
Untold the story of the blood, she'd to serve desires of greater man.
For all the time the gold refined, still we cry, consuming more, as we stay poor.
They've locked the door.
Fight for your life, no more we'll close our eyes 'til Sunday.
While people die poor everyday, your lies will never feed my family.
Still fight to make a better way.
They've taken away all I have.