[Verse 1] I slept in garages and cold backrooms, carrying my life in two bags and a heartbeat. A woman gave me shelter once, until the day she wanted something from me and threw me out when I didn’t bend. That’s how you learn the truth: hospitality can vanish in one breath. I walked through Decatur like a ghost, but I kept moving, finding a café that felt like a small miracle. Someone there offered me a place to sleep, no questions asked. Real kindness exists, but it hides most of the time. [Hook – low sung] I move slow, but I move right. I got nothing, but I still shine. No home, but I keep my spine. Freedom is hard, but the choice is mine. [Verse 2] One night I talked to a big industry figure on a quiet street corner. No lights, no noise, just two humans measuring the truth. He looked at me and asked my name. I said it with my whole chest, and the air shifted around us. I ran through the city for forty-five minutes after that, like my body knew something my mind couldn’t say. It wasn’t pride, it was proof— proof that I’m still alive, still aligned, still becoming. [Hook] I move slow, but I move right. I got nothing, but I still shine. No home, but I keep my spine. Freedom is hard, but the choice is mine. [Verse 3] My father wants me to be a money maker. I want that too, but in my own way, without losing who I am. I signed a young producer from far away, locked in a deal with a team on the coast, brick by brick, no fake shine. I've changed my number three times, not to disappear, but to filter the noise, to keep only the real around me. To stay sane. I’m free— free even when I’m broke, free when I walk alone, free when the city tests me, and I don’t fall. [Outro – spoken] This city breaks me, this city shapes me, this city lets me breathe inside its cracks. I’m not lost, I’m in motion. And as long as I walk, I win.
