

Prompt / Lyrics
[Intro] Yeah Back to business Clock tickin’, crowd listenin’ Game 7 [Verse 1] Used to waste days, scrollin’ till my eyes hurt Laughin’ with some people that ain’t ever seen my side work Talkin’ like a hitter, never swung, that was my dirt Now I’m in the cage till my fingers feel like dry earth Mama said, “You gifted” — I was actin’ like it’s thrifted Left it in the bag, tags on, never lifted Now I lace the shoes tight, laces up, no slippin’ Treat every loose ball like the mortgage on eviction No more “maybe later,” that phrase had me shackled Had me on the bench while my blessings got tackled Now I’m watchin’ film of my flaws like a scout Circle every bad habit just to cut that out [Chorus] I’m livin’ like Game 7, every breath, every second Ain’t playin’ with my present, that regret, I reject it Odds don’t mean a thing, I don’t care what they’re bettin’ I’m fightin’ every day like I’m tryin’ to force Game 7 (yeah) I’m livin’ like Game 7, every choice, every lesson Put my name on the line, let ’em double, I’m steppin’ Odds don’t mean a thing, I don’t care what they’re bettin’ I’m fightin’ every day like I’m tryin’ to force Game 7 [Verse 2] They was keepin’ score on me, I was keepin’ score on ‘em Killin’ time, not habits, that’s how you become a boredom Now it’s 5 a.m. alarms, dark sky, cold shower Treat the sunrise like a tunnel, I’m just runnin’ toward power Blew some good years like a lead in the fourth Tried to laugh it off, stomach twistin’ at the core Now I write plans like plays on the whiteboard Cross ‘em out daily, still hungry for a slight more Talk cheap, I was broke from the chatter Now it’s proof on the stat sheet, hustle in the data Friends fell off when I cut out the nonsense Funny how the silence got me closer to the content (yeah) [Chorus] I’m livin’ like Game 7, every breath, every second Ain’t playin’ with my present, that regret, I reject it Odds don’t mean a thing, I don’t care what they’re bettin’ I’m fightin’ every day like I’m tryin’ to force Game 7 (Game 7) I’m livin’ like Game 7, every shot, every message If the door don’t open, then I’m knockin’ off the hinges Odds don’t mean a thing, I don’t care what they’re bettin’ I’m fightin’ every day like I’m tryin’ to force Game 7 (yeah)
Tags
rap, Dusty East Coast boom-bap with chopped soul samples, warm Rhodes, and a swung, head-nod pocket; male vocals laid right in front of the mix with subtle vinyl crackle. Verses tight and aggressive, slight saturation on the vocal; hook lifts with stacked harmonies, filtered sample opening up on the downbeat. Occasional tape stop effects to punctuate lines, bassline round and melodic to keep it soulful yet gritty., soulful
2:57
No
4/6/2026