Midnight Stairwell Flow

[Verse 1]
Backpack half-zipped
Bus pass, old script
Writing on my phone
Till the screen get chipped
Mama in the kitchen
Counting every bill
I was in my headphones
Trying to sit still
Teacher said “dream small”
Chalk on the board
I was drawing big plans
Right over her words
Same shoes, same block
Same cracked grey
Only thing that ever changed
What I gotta say
[Chorus]
I rap for the kids in the back row (back row)
Hands in the hoodie, eyes on the window
Head full of “one day,” pockets say “not yet”
Still I bet, yeah I bet, we ain’t done yet
I rap for the nights on the stairwell (stairwell)
Talking like tomorrow gonna end well
Heart loud, world cold, but we won’t fold
This my life, this my mic, this my gold
[Verse 2]
Friend caught a case
Over ten quick likes
Internet courage
Turned real life stripes
Cousin need work
But the job line thin
He been praying every day
Still the call don’t ring
I ain’t tryna preach
I just paint what I see
If the shoe fit tight
Then it’s probably for me
Every scar, every doubt
Yeah I keep that close
Turn pain into poems
Then I spit those quotes
[Chorus]
I rap for the kids in the back row (back row)
Hands in the hoodie, eyes on the window
Head full of “one day,” pockets say “not yet”
Still I bet, yeah I bet, we ain’t done yet
I rap for the nights on the stairwell (stairwell)
Talking like tomorrow gonna end well
Heart loud, world cold, but we won’t fold
This my life, this my mic, this my gold

rap, Moody East Coast boom-bap with dusty filtered piano chops and a head-knock kick-snare, male vocals. Verse sits close and conversational, then chorus swells with stacked call-and-response hooks and subtle choir pads. Slight tape grit, tight low end, snare snaps right in the pocket.