(Verse 1)
Up in North Bergen on a corner street,
There’s a kitchen with a rhythm and a chili beat.
He don’t wear a crown, but he’s royalty,
Stirrin’ heat in a pot like a melody.
Tomatoes from the garden, vinegar slow,
Peppers he grows in the window glow.
No chemicals, no fake disguise,
Just flames born clean and a fire that flies.
(Pre-Chorus)
Neighbors say, “Boy, what’s cookin’ in there?”
You smell the truth in the midnight air.
(Chorus)
He was made to burn, like a southern flame,
Turnin’ Jersey heat into a worldwide name.
No shortcuts, just soul and spice,
Every drop’s got a story and a little bite.
He don’t chase gold, he builds the heat,
Savory Baba on that backstreet beat.
Ooh, yeah, made to burn —
That man was made to burn.
(Verse 2)
He’s got jars lined up like a sacred row,
With names like “Thunder Kiss” and “Garden Glow.”
No marketing crew, just word of mouth,
From North Bergen kitchens to the deep-down South.
And when he talks, you listen close,
'Cause wisdom comes with a little ghost.
He’ll say, “Spice ain’t heat, it’s a kind of truth,
And you gotta grow it like you grew your youth.”
(Pre-Chorus)
He’s got that spark you can’t fake or buy,
Just a heart on fire and peppers high.
(Chorus)
He was made to burn, like a neon sky,
Turnin’ sweet cayenne into lullabies.
No sugarcoat, no borrowed fame,
Just a backyard legend with a hometown name.
He don’t need charts to make you feel,
Savory Baba keeps it hot and real.
Ooh, yeah, made to burn —
That man was made to burn.
(Bridge)
From the pier to the porch, from the Hudson breeze,
To a whisper in Nashville’s music scene.
They say, “Who’s that cook with the jalapeño charm?”
It’s the guy with the heat and the farmer’s heart.
(Final Chorus)
He was made to burn, like a rebel song,
Spicin’ up the world with a love so strong.
No plastic, no label-spin,
Just a fire you feel deep within.
So when the night gets cold, you’ll learn —
Call on the man who’s made to burn.
(Outro)
Yeah, Savory Baba…
He was made to burn.
