(Track Title: “Scratch the Sky”)
(Intro)
[Sound of a needle dropping on vinyl, a faint, soulful piano loop fades in]
Yeah…
Check…check one…
The ink is blood,the paper’s skin…
Let’s begin.
(Verse 1)
I wasn’t built in boardrooms with a silver spoon recipe
I was forged in sidewalk cracks where the struggle talks to me
Where dreams get folded into paper planes against the breeze
And victory’s a whispered word that rattles through the trees
I scraped the rust off heaven’s gate with ragged,bare-knuckle nails
While cynics spun their prison yards in theoretical jails
My thesis?Metaphors that hit you like a left hook to the liver
Delivered by a river made of midnight and shivers
I hold the echo of the elders in the cadence of my flow
The future in my fingerprints,the present in the throw
This ain’t just music for the moment,it’s a monument in sound
A lighthouse for the lost who feel like they might drown.
(Chorus)
So I scratch the sky with a humble pen,
Turn the pain to power,again and again.
From the bottom of the well where the silence screams,
We stitch our crowns from tattered dreams.
Yeah,we scratch the sky, me and my team,
Living proof that the phoenix ain’t just a theme.
The rhythm is the riot,the rhyme is the release…
Finding heaven in the broken pieces,finding peace.
(Verse 2)
They see the gold,but never dig the dirt up from the mine
They hear the chorus,never trace the fault line in the design
I’m architect and wrecking ball,a paradox in Jordans
Observing urban orchards where the hope is growing foreign
I speak in codes of corner stores and flickering street lamps
Paint portraits of the pressure with the sweat inside my damp hands
This legacy is not a chain,it’s seeds inside my pocket
To plant inside the concrete,watch the roots disrupt the socket
I battle with the mirror,not the figments on the timeline
Seeking truth,not just a clever couplet for the highlight reel
‘Cause the game is full of specters chasing clout and empty fame
I’d rather be a real ghost,haunting halls they can’t reclaim.
(Chorus)
So I scratch the sky with a humble pen,
Turn the pain to power,again and again.
From the bottom of the well where the silence screams,
We stitch our crowns from tattered dreams.
Yeah,we scratch the sky, me and my team,
Living proof that the phoenix ain’t just a theme.
The rhythm is the riot,the rhyme is the release…
Finding heaven in the broken pieces,finding peace.
(Bridge)
[Piano loop strips back, leaving just a kick drum and a deep 808 bass hum]
They ask me what the purpose is…is it the women? The wheels?
It’s the unbreakable will when the nothingness feels real.
It’s the vibration in the chest when the beat and truth connect,
Building something to respect from the fragments of neglect.
It’s the map drawn from the scars,the melody inside the madness,
The alchemy of turning all this anguish into gladness.
This is my scripture,my confession, my kinetic energy…
A love letter to the lost parts of my own memory.
(Outro)
[Ad-libs: “Yeah… scratch
