Family in the Kitchen Light

[Verse 1]
Aunt Tracy in the kitchen, apron like armor
Steam from the pot, smells strong, hits harder
She say, “Baby, dreams take time, keep stirring”
Pour a little hope in the pan, keep learning
Mom on the phone, bills spread on the table
Clock in, clock out, still calling it a fable
Says, “One day we’ll breathe, just wait, I promise”
Eyes so tired, but her word? Still honest (yeah)
[Chorus]
We got love on the stove, yeah, Tracy cooking dreams
Mom stacking every dollar, stretching out the seams
Sister draws a new world when the old one ain’t right
And we all hold each other in the middle of the fight
We got cousins in the yard, we got jokes in the air
If we ever feel lost, know the family right there
From the kitchen to the porch under busted street beams
We ain’t rich in our pockets, but we’re wealthy in dreams (hey)
[Verse 2]
Sis with the paint-stained hands, quiet storm
Sketchbook shield when the chaos forms
I’m out talking wild, ready when it pops
She pull me to the side, “Let it go, it’s not worth the cost”
Cousin Josh and I sprint, scuffed shoes on the gravel
We rumble, we wrestle, then we travel
Same two kids, same cuts on our knees
Turn a shout to a joke, turn a bruise to a tease
Thalia on the floor, we laughing ’til we cry
Inside jokes, can’t even tell you why
Faces hurting, can’t breathe, that’s the cure
For the days that feel heavy, we just ride it out pure (oh yeah)
[Chorus]
We got love on the stove, yeah, Tracy cooking dreams
Mom stacking every dollar, stretching out the seams
Sister draws a new world when the old one ain’t right
And we all hold each other in the middle of the fight
We got cousins in the yard, we got jokes in the air
If we ever feel lost, know the family right there
From the kitchen to the porch under busted street beams
We ain’t rich in our pockets, but we’re wealthy in dreams

rap, Warm, sample-heavy boom-bap with a bouncy drum groove and deep bass; male vocals laid right up front. Verses conversational and story-driven, with subtle piano chops and vinyl crackle. Hook blossoms with stacked call-and-response ad-libs and a thicker drum swing, then drops back to a stripped verse pocket.