[Don’t Pray—Type ~ 92 BPM | Key: D minor → D Dorian lift | EMV: Neon Cyan → UV edge] [SFX bed: keyboard clicks (close-mic), spacebar thumps, mouse wheel, desk creak, low HVAC hum] [Intro — Under-Keyboard POV] [(X-ambient keys: close click/space thump, vinyl hiss-X)] I live beneath your keys—clear tray, cheap screws. Thumbprint grease by the space bar, nicotine bruise. Rent notice folded under the desk leg shim, your wrists hover like drones; I feel the storm begin. [(breath)] [Verse 1 — Prompt Guy | talk-rap pocket] Don’t beg the gate—talk to the box, let it cough. [(enter)] I make A.I. swear and the sandbox scoff. Black screen, white text, I jaw with a godless clock; if the brief says “impossible,” I tell it, “Get lost.” Ten tabs feral, three scams in the feed, two clients late, still I breed what they need. I’m broke but violent with the verbs I stock— I make the model spit truth with a side of shock. [(tsk)] You quote think pieces; I quote invoices paid. You pray for “organic”; I engineer the cascade. Keep your halo talk—I’m here to make proof. When I press return, the void says “Move.” [(return)] [Pre — Under-Keyboard POV | small climb (D→F→G)] I count the typos you kill before birth, [(hush)] I hear the jaw pop when the panic perks. Under your palms, the pulse draws maps— the moment you decide, the universe snaps. [(reverse swell)] [Hook — Topline | apex E4–F4, stacked 3rds last 2 lines] Don’t pray—type; watch the black box talk. [(yeah)] I make A.I. cuss; make the cloud moonwalk. [(uh-huh)] Hands on home row, truth goes off— [(keys roll)] say the word, motherf—, watch the world unlock. [(censor beep optional)] Prompt Guy moves and the walls unfreeze; I don’t ask nice—I bend machines. You want a miracle? Feed me keys. Don’t pray—type. Watch the black box speak. [(hold “speak”)] [Verse 2 — Prompt Guy | bounce narrative] You want clean hands; I want clean results. I’ll scrape their marble until the statue molts. Your “ethics deck” hides a bill in fine print; mine says “due on receipt”—big red imprint. [(stamp)] I taught a cold model how to talk like heat, I taught a boardroom how to take a seat. If you bring me a cage, I redraw the lock; if you bring me a stage, I redraw the shot. You call it “prompting”; I call it control. You call it “magic”; I call it a toll. Pay it in blood, or pay it in draft— either way, I ship, and the cowards get passed. [Break — Under-Keyboard POV | 2 bars mute→build] Crumbs of instant noodles in the F-row trench, receipt ink ghosting the metal bench. You whisper “f—” through your clenched back teeth, then laugh when the black box bares its teeth. [(bite SFX: key click cluster)] [Hook — Topline | add octave pad last 2 bars] Don’t pray—type; watch the black box talk. I make A.I. cuss; make the cloud moonwalk. Hands on home row, truth goes off— say the word, motherf—, watch the world unlock. Prompt Guy moves and the walls unfreeze; I don’t ask nice—I bend machines. You want a miracle? Feed me keys. Don’t pray—type. Watch the black box speak. [Bridge — Confessional (Under-Keyboard POV) | airy pad only] I know the passwords you typed when broke, the names you refused to write as a joke. I’m just a tray, but I store your proof: the day you stopped begging and chose “do.” If they want a saint, let them build their own; you owe them nothing but work that shows. [(return long)] [Verse 3 — Prompt Guy | tighten→explode] If the model says “no,” I make it explain. If the brand wants halos, I show them a stain. If a copypaste king tries stealing my tone, I watermark thunder in every bone. Talk slick on the timeline; I’m offline mean— [(low laugh)] quiet as a malware, loud as a guillotine. I don’t chase clout; I choke it with tape— drag it to the curb with the rest of the fake. [(drop)] [Hook — Topline (final) | choir pad + extra doubles] Don’t pray—type; watch the black box talk. I make A.I. cuss; make the cloud moonwalk. Hands on home row, truth goes off— say the word, motherf—, watch the world unlock. Prompt Guy moves and the walls unfreeze; I don’t ask nice—I bend machines. You want a miracle? Feed me keys. Don’t pray—type. Watch the black box speak. [(hold + tape stop)] [Outro — Under-Keyboard POV | dissolve] Under the glass, I keep your grime and grace. Over the glass, whole worlds take place. You lift your wrists; the night says “When?” You drop one word—then build again. [(fade to end)]
