Rolling through the 4 1 9, C-6 growling deep speakers running biscuit vision in the air tonight bass line deap track shoes on the prodigy of the t o l
Broken glass mirrors my whip, reflect the dreams I wrote.
Fat gas pedal down, beast clawing the tar’s spine.
Poet riding filthy, victory smells of turpentine.
Chrome tears drip, city lights in flood.
Contours of beauty glow through the mud.
Every shard’s a story, a glimmer, a scar.
In the 419, legends carved into tar.
Bulletproof thoughts ricochet off cracked skies.
The Camaro roars symphonies; concrete cries.
Rims turn relics, scrape the tale of the grind.
A poet’s on patrol, caught between savage and divine.
Gas pedal’s a sledgehammer, smashing time and physics.
Whipping through neon veins, spitting loops of linguistics.
Engine’s hum, a hymn; pavement praying beneath.
Beauty in chaos, my verses sheath the beast.
Chrome tears drip, city lights in flood.
Contours of beauty glow through the mud.
Every shard’s a story, a glimmer, a scar.
In the 419, legends carved into tar.
City glimmers, sharp edges, skyline a spectacle, yeah
C-6 purr through veins of this broken glass cartel
Fat pedal stomps scarred streets, symphony of rebellion
Toledo’s silhouette in the side mirror, bold and hellion
Broken glass streets, soul of the 4-1-9,
Camaro engine growl, steady tapping the spine,
Fat gas pedal whispers, she feeds me grind,
Poet under streetlights, rhythm undefined.
C-6 swerves, city’s a shattered jewel,
Contours of decay, still sharp, still rule,
From the cracks to the smoke, beauty cruel,
Poet on the prowl, pen dipped in fuel.
Mirror tint low, reflections stark,
Headlights cut through the Toledo dark,
She’s screaming asphalt sermons, a gearhead arc,
Broken glass symphony, street a bass prologue spark.
Fat gas heavy, pedal hums wild,
Every block baptized, every corner styled,
Contours of the chaos, broken but beguiled,
Poet’s metropolis, 4-1-9 child.
C-6 swerves, city’s a shattered jewe
419 dreams in a Camaro’s roar
Through chaos veins, we explore the core
Glass on the asphalt, truth on display
Beauty in the madness, my city, my sway
Rust belt breathin', concrete poetry screams
Brick by broken brick, paint these gritty dreams
Chrome chariot strides where others won’t dare
Reflecting shadows of despair turned rare
This boulevard’s a canvas, graffiti in motion
Every crack’s a stanza, a cement devotion
Gas pedal heavy, the soul starts to crack
Yet Toledo kisses you, and keeps pulling you back
Streetlights flicker Morse through the river's sigh
Ohio holds a mirror, catching flames in the eye
I frame the chaos, pin it to my jacket lapel
The charm of Toledo, it’s a blessing, it’s a spell
419 dreams in a Camaro’s roar
Through chaos veins, we explore the core
Glass on the asphalt, truth on display
Beauty in the madness, my city, my sway
Too short? Nah, these roads long and winding.
Dust coated dreams, still, I keep grinding.
C-6 howls deep where the broken glass glides.
Poet rides eternal, no compass, no guide.
Poet419
