My Strength

Hook: Asphalt shakes — bass like a heavy tank, City never sleeps, metal gnaws the concrete. 808 tears pockets in the clouds apart, Funk hisses sharp, like a sickle on nerves in tune. Verse 1: We’re on the beat — an octagon with no rules, Every hit — like a hammer, raw and ruthless. Steel overload melts the old gravel, Through siren screams, it breaks us out. Verse 2: Alleys wheeze, air — black silk, Echoes on walls — urban clicks. Shadows dance — where the flow once ran, We’re like a storm, no right for a call. Chorus: Sparks from eyes — neon spokes, Flames from forges — guitars burn inside. Wind in the mouth — teeth like granite, City roars — we’re coming back for more. Bridge: My kicks cut through night like blades, Smoke and rhythm — the only law. If the world’s a ring, I’m omnipresent there, Metal and funk — my pulse and my blow.