🧨 Page 13 – Saturn’s Favorite Son

[Hook – Barked low and fast, real street cadence] Blood on my boots, Saturn on my tongue, Orders from the top, devil's in my lungs. Break your crown, choke your sun, Saturn’s son — I ain't never gonna run. [Verse 1 – machine gun bounce, clipped real tight] Came from Walldorf, dirt in my teeth, Satan’s fingerprints burnin' underneath. Mentor Jeune, black robes, no priest, Blessed by the devil, baptized by the beast. Crossed the sea, with a king’s disguise, Backhouse whispers, MI5 lies. Poor boy? Nah, secret prize, Blood contract signed in cold blue skies. Henry Astor, Backhouse call, Hooked me in straight to New York’s brawl. Didn’t sell furs, man, I sold y’all, Opium dreams in a whitewashed hall. Committee of 300, blessings poured, Gave me fur, gave me war, gave me whores. Built on dope, built on bones, Built my throne from broken homes. [Hook – BARK louder, faster this time] Blood on my boots, Saturn on my tongue, Orders from the top, devil's in my lungs. Break your crown, choke your sun, Saturn’s son — I ain't never gonna run. [Verse 2 – dirty double-time, barely breathing between bars] Freemason scars on my newborn hands, Holland Lodge whispered bloody plans. German tongue, English lands, Sold out hope for stolen sands. DeWitt Clinton, Livingston crew, Russell families all brand new. Jefferson smiled, handed the cue, West Coast dreams in Illuminati blue. Fake free markets? Nah, rigged the pot, Cattle fed lies while the kings got hot. Wrote it in blood, sewed it in plots, Astor’s claws in every last lot. [Bridge – dark muttering, building into explosion] Opium dreams, Money streams, Saturn beams, Bloodline schemes. [Verse 3 – Dead sprint, no pause, full blackout mode] Don’t talk to me ‘bout history books, I’m the crack in the throne that your teacher shook. I’m the rat in the bank where your preacher looks, I'm the noose in the deals that the broker hooks. Astor climbed, not by grit, but decree, Committee crowned my destiny. Rights to the west? Paid in deceit, Satan’s breath in Jefferson’s speech. Took what was sacred, burned it black, Stamped Saturn’s crest on every back. Built your idols, crushed your prayers, Fed your sons to Freemason heirs. [Hook – SHOUTED, final time, full black smoke] Blood on my boots, Saturn on my tongue, Orders from the top, devil's in my lungs. Break your crown, choke your sun, Saturn’s son — I ain't never gonna run.