[Intro – Piano & Whispered Rain] Street empty. Just lamplight and memory. You can hear them if you listen — the ones the books forgot. (Trumpet answers softly, like a breath.) ⸻ [Verse 1 – Lil Wayne] 🎶 They built the beat but ain’t get the credit, Swept the church, never preached in it. Played the horns then faded out, Left their names in somebody’s shout. I seen halos with the rust still on, Saw love in a hand-me-down song. They ain’t famous but they fed the flame, Saints with no names, still the same. 🎶 ⸻ [Hook – Choir + Batiste + Wayne] 🎶 Saints with no names, we hear you hum, You the drum beneath where we come from. You the echo in every praise, The shadow in the light God gave. 🎶 ⸻ [Verse 2 – Lil Wayne] 🎶 Some died young, some just vanished, Some dreams floated, some got banished. But faith ain’t lost — it recycled pain, Turned ashes back into rain. They left trumpets where their names should be, So when we play, that’s memory. We ain’t alone when we take that stage, They right here on every page. 🎶 ⸻ [Bridge – French Lament by Batiste & Choir] 🎶 Les oubliés ne dorment pas, (The forgotten do not sleep.) Ils dansent dans le vent, (They dance in the wind.) Leur chant est le notre, (Their song is ours.) 🎶 (Wayne speaks underneath) Yeah… they still here. In the bass, in the bells, in the blood. ⸻ [Hook – Full Band Swell] 🎶 Saints with no names, we call your sound, You the reason our feet touch ground. Every solo you ever played, Still rise in the notes we made. 🎶 ⸻ [Verse 3 – Spoken Word / Wayne] The city ain’t built on stone, it’s built on souls. Folks who swept, who sang, who stayed. You can’t see ’em — but you can feel em. When the horn bend, that’s them talkin’. When the drum pause — that’s them listening. 🎶 We the echo of the unheard choir, Still breathin’, still on fire. 🎶 ⸻ [Final Hook – Soft Choir Fade / Batiste Piano] 🎶 Saints with no names, you ain’t gone, Your song still the city’s song. We don’t need marble, we got sound, Heaven ain’t up, it’s all around. 🎶 ⸻ [Outro – Batiste Solo Piano and Rain] Tonight, the river whisper every name we forgot. And the city say, “Amen.” (Soft horn echo answers from far away — like a spirit signing off.)

Saints with No Names