[Intro]
Grandma humming in the needle where the record moves,
clock hands tap wood; my heart learns better grooves.
I map the city veins, traffic as metronomes—
home where the breakbeat baptizes broken bones.
[Verse 1]
Raised on coupons, corners, and cornerstones,
sermons in a storefront, lessons on a borrowed phone.
Dreams in a shoebox; tongue tied to a tourniquet,
broke but fluent in hope—I learned to tourniquet
every wound with a word, every doubt with a diagram,
chalk math on the sky, multiply what I never had.
I stitched my fractures to fabric, raised a flag of scar,
flew it above the block like a lighthouse for the dark.
Cook hunger with numbers, season it with Psalms,
loop pain till it tastes like purpose in my palms.
Graffiti in my notebooks: futures in italics,
thunder in the margins, rain like a habit.
They said be realistic; I said real is elastic.
If truth’s a gym, I’m the bar doing backflips.
Not asking for access—I pick locks with cadence,
turn keys with breath, open vaults with statements.
[Hook]
Told the night I brought sunrise in my carry-on,
made an anthem from ashes I tarried on.
If ceilings drop, I grow a stair beyond—
Everybody up— we don’t break, we break dawn.
[Verse 2]
Industry tried to auction off my oxygen,
labels love a coffin when a poet’s boxed within.
But I’m stubborn as a mirror—make you look at you,
turn a verse to a verdict, let the hook be proof.
My cadence is a courthouse; every bar a barrister,
cross-exam the culture: who profits off character?
Algorithms sell trauma like a carnival,
clickbait halos, dopamine’s arsenal.
I tax the fake with a tariff of clarity,
audit my accounts, publish my charities.
A rebel with a ledger—balance sheet of the soul,
debits of old debts; credit where I grow.
Forgive what tried to drown me; never forget:
I surfed the undertow—came up wetter than debt.
Armor on the aura, discipline in DNA,
bench-press doubt till the fear gives way.
[Bridge / Switch]
Kill the sample—leave the needle in the sky like a kite.
Let the drums march raw; let the syllables bite.
Iron in a pen—sparks kiss the oxide.
Rhyme like a locksmith trapped in a stop sign.
[Verse 3]
Who the greatest? I’m not racing; I’m raising the road,
plant miles like seeds till the pavement explodes.
Gold records? Cool. I’m minting character coins,
pay elders dividends, compound the joints.
If legacy’s a ladder, take splinters and climb;
let tomorrow cash checks we sign in this time.
For kids with a question mark stitched in a hoodie,
I ink exclamation, underline it in goodie.
My art is a kitchen—grab a plate, get fed.
Season the silence till the quiet turns red.
I won’t dim for a list, won’t beg for a crown—
I brought my own morning; watch me lay it down.
[Hook / Outro]
Told the night I brought sunrise in my carry-on,
made an anthem from ashes I tarried on.
If ceilings drop, I grow a stair beyond—
Everybody up— we don’t break, we break dawn.
