No Handouts

Title: “No Handouts”

Yeah…

They said I wouldn't make it.

Now look.

I came up from the cracks in the pavement,

No silver spoon, just dreams and the basement.

Mama said, "Work till your soul feels vacant,"

So I hit the grind, no sleep, no fakin'.

Lights low, but my vision stayed vivid,

Used to doubt myself, now I’m fully committed.

They talked loud, but the actions were timid,

I spit truth, they just mimic and mimic.

No handouts, I built this lane,

Blood on the mic, sweat in the game.

From the bottom, but I rose in flame,

Now the world gon' remember my name.

No handouts, I made that climb,

Clocked those hours, paid in time.

Self-made—every line, every rhyme,

Now I shine like I knew I’d shine.

Used to write bars in a notebook torn,

Back when cold nights felt colder than scorn.

Now they watch close like I’m newly born,

But I weathered storms they ain’t even warned.

Every "no" was a match to my fire,

Turned pain into fuel, turned fear into wire.

Hooked to the beat like I’m wired to inspire,

This ain’t for the clout—this is soul, this is higher.

No handouts, I built this lane… (etc.)

No cosign, no big names,

Just grit, heart, and unchained flames.

Took each scar, turned it to a frame,

Of a self-made king in a lion’s game.

So when they ask how I did all that,

Tell 'em: no handouts, just hard facts.

Mic in my grip, world on my back

And I never look down, I just stay on track.