I’m the spark in the gutter, the rain can’t drown,
Born from the noise where the pain gets found.
Steel-cap dreams in a cracked playground,
Still walk tall when the world breaks down.
Smoke in my lungs, truth in my teeth,
Each bar laid raw like a brick in the street.
Got mates doin’ time, some ghosts I keep,
And a mind that don’t rest — it cuts too deep.
Paint chipped walls, where my verses grew,
From a busted mic and a point to prove.
Ain’t chasin’ fame, just the sound of truth,
That real talk inked in the font of proof.
From east to the river, the nights run slick,
Neon dreams under rusted bricks.
No stage lights — just grit and wit,
And a heart that hits harder than the life I live.