Hieroglyphs on the wall, scrawled in corner store chalk,
Ghetto Rosetta, translation in the gun talk.
Said I’m nobody, but I’m the phantom in the block,
Invisible ink, my words cut deep like a lock.
Pastor preachin' in a trap, gospel over a stove,
Pyrex hymns, steam risin’ from the glow.
My flow’s the prophet's stone, truth chiseled in code,
Scribes with pens, but my scripture bleeds from the soul.
They called me nobody, now my name’s on the stone,
Etched in the pad, these streets my home.
Hieroglyphs in the gutter, words of my kin,
The poet's ink bleeds where the struggle begins.
Barrel of the mic, spittin’ hot like a burner,
Run circles 'round doubters, lyrical track turner.
Your hate’s a page in my notebook, fuel to my pen,
Every "you ain’t gon’ make it" turned to hooks I bend.
My Southern drawl slow, Midwest sharp wit,
Built this temple brick by brick, no counterfeit.
You trace the lines, but can't decode my spit,
Ghetto hieroglyphics, truth in every bit.
Carve my story in the stone, hieroglyph bricks,
On the trap house wall, where the roaches flick.
Said I was nobody, now they on my tip,
A Pharaoh with the flow, my crown don’t slip.
Ink drips heavy, same as my sins,
Notebook bleeds like a poet’s skin.
I scribble curses, turn 'em into hymns,
Turn the ghetto gospel into platinum wins.
Hieroglyphs on the note pad, they don’t fade,
Lines cut deep like a razor blade.
Nobody, they said, but now I’m paid,
Hieroglyphs on the note pad, history made.
Southern drawl thick, tongue made of clay,
Words hit hard, leave ‘em shook for days.
Midwest cold, hustle paved the way,
Trap house blues, where my demons stay.
Ashes on the corner, dreams in the air,
Broken bottles whisper, life ain’t fair.
Said I was nothing, but I’m still right here,
Built my throne out of despair and fear.
They wrote me off, but I rewrote fate,
Inked my pain, let the pen translate.
From dirt to diamonds, the weight’s innate,
Ghetto hieroglyphs, I articulate.
They thought I was dust, but I’m diamonds in the dirt,
Turned their hate to gold, alchemy of hurt.
Read my scars, every mark’s a verse,
Ghetto poet’s ink, my curse and my worth.[Verse]
Ink scratch papyrus, modern-day Pharaoh's flex,
Ghetto hieroglyphs carve respect in my text.
Said I was nobody, but look at my pen,
Edges sharper than razors, slice through your sin.
Notebook my pyramid, I’m stacking the bricks,
Wordsmith sorcerer, pulling magic from tricks.
Hieroglyphic ink, carved in stone,
From the block to the throne, I built my zone.
You said I’m nobody, watch me ascend,
The poet’s ink pen writes revenge again.
South drawl syrupy, blues in my veins,
Trap house sermons, gospel born in chains.
Scribes in the gutter, prophets of the curb,
Language of the lost, every rhyme a verb.
Mummy-wrapped doubters, suffocate in their lies,
Pyramids of pain where my phoenix rise.
Nobody to Pharaoh, I flipped the role,
From the dirt to the gold, sticks to the bricks still clutching my soul.
Let the Hieroglyphic ink flow
Poet419
