Mic Check Maze

Concrete jungle, my pen’s machete,

Chopping through the vines, streets stay petty.

Pocket full of lint, dreams still heavy,

Stomach growls louder than an old-school Chevy.

Hustle on my breath, ambition in my veins,

City rains pain, tattooed with stains.

Every block a sermon, preacher in chains,

Preaching survival, dodging the flames.

Mic check, mic check, one-two, one-two,

Lost in the maze, but the rhyme breaks through.

Echo in the alleys, shadows pursue,

Life’s a tightrope, and I’m lacing my shoes.

Pavement whispers, stories untold,

Rats play chess where the heat turns cold.

Dreams get pawned for a pocket of gold,

But the king still stands, his spirit won’t fold.

Truth in the cracks of graffiti decay,

Hope spray-painted where the lost kids play.

Chasing tomorrow, we’re stuck in today,

But the beat keeps thumping, guiding the way.

Mic check, mic check, one-two, one-two,

Lost in the maze, but the rhyme breaks through.

Echo in the alleys, shadows pursue,

Life’s a tightrope, and I’m lacing my shoes.