[Intro: room tone, refrigerator hum, phone recorder click] Two seventeen. Kitchen floor. Don’t ask. [Verse 1: low conversational rap, loose pocket] Could've stayed in bed, but the ceiling got loud Same four walls got opinions right now So I'm barefoot, hoodie, back to the cabinet Cup on the tile, phone out, fuck it—I'm having it No booth, no lights, no engineer saying “again” Just me and whatever crawled out of my head Fridge humming bass like it knows what I need Blue light on my face, little red dot blinking at me I said I wasn't writing tonight That was cute Now I got sixteen bars and an attitude Everybody sleeping, whole house gone still Meanwhile my brain doing donuts uphill Thinking 'bout people I miss but don't call People I love that I can't fix at all Funny how quiet gets violent at two When there ain't enough noise left to hide behind you [Hook: melodic rap, hazy layered vocal] Kitchen floor, cold tile Been down here a little while Cup half full, phone on record Guess we're making something now No sleep, no plan Just a beat tapped out by hand If I can't shut my head off I'll make it understand [Verse 2: tighter cadence, drums build] I got drafts full of apologies I never sent Voice notes that start strong then lose their intent Screenshots of shit that don't matter no more Still don't delete 'em, what am I keeping 'em for? Maybe proof I was there Maybe proof that it hurt Maybe I keep old ghosts so the silence feels earned Yeah— I know that's unhealthy, save the lecture I'm making bad choices in excellent measure Ice in the glass doing percussion for free And the clock got nerve moving faster than me Three missed calls I answered yesterday Three people said “you good?”—I said “yeah” anyway Professional liar when the question's too kind Got a whole little talent for saying “I'm fine” But the tile don't care The cabinets don't judge Kitchen's seen everybody fall apart once So I'm talking to the room like the room talks back Putting weight in a rhyme just to get it off my back [Hook: stronger bass, more melodic] Kitchen floor, cold tile Been down here a little while Cup half full, phone on record Guess we're making something now No sleep, no plan Just a beat tapped out by hand If I can't shut my head off I'll make it understand [Verse 3: near-freestyle, sharper delivery] Look— I don't need saving, I need maybe six hours And one damn night where my head loses power I need my people okay without checking the door Need to stop treating peace like I'm asking for more Need to quit measuring love by how useful I am Quit thinking “I got you” means “break if I can” I know how to carry I know how to stay I know every version of “I'll handle it, babe” What I don't know? How to sit still when I'm tired How to let somebody else put their hand on the fire How to say “I need you” without making a joke How to admit that some nights I get scared I'll go broke— Not money. Emotion. Different account. Been overdrafting myself trying to help everybody out ...Damn. Okay. That one was too good to delete. [Beat cuts briefly] Keep that. [Bridge: soft sung-rap, almost whispered] Maybe morning finds me here Head against the cabinet door Maybe nothing got fixed tonight But it weighs a little less than before Maybe that's enough Maybe that's the trick Turn the shit you can't sleep through Into something that sticks [Final Verse: relaxed, confident comedown] Four-oh-eight and the cup's mostly ice Got a verse on my phone I might actually like Sun coming up, that's disrespectful as hell Bird outside chirping like it paid for the session itself I should go sleep Probably won't Might make coffee Probably don't But the room feels different Head ain't as mean Maybe putting it somewhere made space in between So if you hear this later, don't ask what went wrong Nothing dramatic— Couldn't sleep. Made a song. [Outro: phone recorder handling noise, small laugh] Kitchen floor freestyle. Take one. Apparently.
