Barless era

(beat: low 808, snare crisp)

Intro

Yeah — where the bars at?

All this humming, no one punching facts.

Verse 1

I step in the booth, I breathe truth, they breathe bass and haze

They mumble melodies while I architect phrases that blaze

They got ad-libs for days, autotune for phases

I got lines like knives — cut through these paper mazes

They count streams, not scenes, applause over substance

I lace metaphors with muscle, they sell a chorus for a stunt, kid

Studio full of ghosts — everybody sounding ghosted

I’m writing legacies while these trends stay roasted

Chorus

Where the bars at? Where the bars at?

Everybody glows but the pen’s flat

Where the bars at? Where the bars at?

We nod heads to a hum, but no one snap back

This a barless era, I’m tryna spark a era

Speak loud with the syllables — turn the sound into terror

Verse 2

They in the club with a hook, repeat, rinse, and replay

I’m in the lab with a verse, makin’ each line weigh

You hear the vibe, you feel the bass, but did it say anything?

If the soul’s on mute, then the culture’s thin as skin

No cipher, just files — pre-plugged and pre-sold

I bring receipts and receipts bring the cold truth told

They flex cash for a tag, I flex verbs for a cause

I’ll tear a chorus down just to build a clause

Bridge

I ain’t knockin’ hustle — I respect the climb

But if your face ain’t in the lyrics, you just rentin’ time

This ain’t nostalgia, it’s a call to arms — bring the craft back

Turn the mic to a scalpel, cut through the plastic wax

Chorus

Where the bars at? Where the bars at?

Everybody glows but the pen’s flat

Where the bars at? Where the bars at?

We nod heads to a hum, but no one snap back

This a barless era, I’m tryna spark a era

Speak loud with the syllables — turn the sound into terror

Verse 3 (hard-hitting)

I spit syllable sermons, they send stickers and streams

I’d rather earn a verse than market empty dreams

Call me old school if you want, call it raw conviction

I’m harvesting verbs while they harvest clicks and friction

You can have the crown of coos, I’ll take the weight of words

I’ll build a kingdom out of hooks if the hooks got nerve

This mic ain’t a toy, it’s a tool — sharpen it, use it

If rap’s a house, I’m the mortar — go ahead, refuse it

Outro

So where the bars at? Echoes in the static

I’m the alarm, not the background automatic

Bring your best, or bring a reason — I’ll test it, no mercy

In this barless era I just came to plant a verse, see?

Porque music

Motherfuckers,Bars!

See you when I see you

Otro