Automatic mathematics, stack the patterns with precision, Every paragraph a prison, every prison got a vision. I'm a blue-collar wizard with a rusted transmission, Turn a busted-up sentence to a platinum composition. Ratchet click rhythm... Listen... Hear the gears mesh. Every breath another blueprint for a future built fresh. Your whole catalog microwave— Mine cast iron. You spark like cheap lighters... I burn like live wiring. Click-clack cadence, kick back? Never— I bend beats backwards, blacksmith pressure. Snap that measure, crack the texture, Every track gets stretched like blacktop weather. Fully activated... Freedom form flowing... Rapid-fire cadence... Then I drag it in slow motion. Rochester rugged... To the Dirty South coast... Built from frozen sidewalks... Now we move like ghosts. Activated... Never average... Steel backbone... Heavy traffic. Freedom... Flowing... City... Growing. Blueprint bruiser, bootprint proof, Truth hit harder when the booth spit truth. Loose screws? Nah— I build with bolts, You build with hype— I'm built to hold. Chain-link slang swing, language lariat, Loop the beat twice then bury it. Paragraph predator, pattern mechanic, Every pair of bars cause panic. Cold-blood grammar with a furnace chest, Every breath bench-press, murder stress. Wordplay work boots, mud on the laces, Still walk circles around these carbon-copy faces. Brick by brick, I stack that syntax, Kick-snare handshake, chest plate impacts. Rivet every rhythm to the ribs of the bass, Leave dents in the silence where I planted my place. Hol' up... Drop that tempo... Let that kick drum breathe. Chrome crawling... Candy dripping... Bass talking underneath. From them Rochester winters to them Georgia pine roads... Different weather... Same hustle... Same weight on our souls. Big body floating... Like a yacht on asphalt. Every mile another lesson... Every loss another catapult. Rattle the pattern— Attack with a battery, Rapid as factory Pistons in symmetry. Minimal vacancy, Literal savagery, Building a masterpiece Hidden in masonry. Syllable surgeon, Precision emerging. Curve every verse 'Til the language is working. Pressure converting The coal into currency— Yours sound rehearsed... Mine sound like urgency. Lake-effect lungs... Every inhale snowflakes. Nickel City knuckles... Cold enough to crack plates. Garbage plates after midnight... Grease on the notebook. Dreams riding shotgun... Hope driving no-look. Park Ave murals... Joseph Ave stories. East side scars... West side glories. Every boarded-up window still reflects ambition... Like the city never folded— Just changed its position. {woman yells - "dead ass"} DEAD ASS Cracker in the concrete—watch the pressure leak, Every step another testament the devil couldn't keep. Blueprint bruises underneath my Timberland tread, I learned economics from the price they put on bread. Steam whistle symphonies echo off brick, I spit rust-colored scriptures that'll make a saint twitch. Piston-pump lungs, every bar got torque, Cutting through the darkness like a welding shop spark. They say the city cold... Nah... the city temper steel. Every setback sharpened what you thought you could conceal. I don't chase crowns— I let 'em roll downhill... Then melt 'em into bullets for the bars that I build. Freedom form flowing— No assembly required. Every syllable forged in abandoned factory fires. You rehearse for applause— I survived the silence. Now my verses throw haymakers... Your hooks throw compliance.
