[Spoken] They’re callin’ me up from the pit below, voices poundin’ through the undertow. My name on their tongues like a spell on repeat, draggin’ my soul to the edge of the beat. Eyes snap open — smoke and flame, I wake to the sound of ’em screamin’ my name. Hands reach out through the flashing haze, pullin’ me back to the stage I razed. The mic lies waiting — black and warm, and the curse takes shape in human form. I don’t know this room, but it knows me well, crowd’s a choir with a taste for hell. I lift the mic — the pulse ignites, bass kicks hard and the dark takes flight. Every breath I spit feels carved in flame, their faces twist as they chant my name. First bar lands — the walls all quake, and the dead inside begin to wake. Dance for me now, feel the heat in your veins, I’m the ghost in the beat, the choir in the flames. You came for the sound — now you’re part of the grave, every drop, every kick digs another wave. Spotlight flickers, I’m spittin’ too fast, crowd’s skin melts—bursts in the blast. DJ’s eyes roll white, bassline moans, speakers breathe smoke, mic grows bones. This ain’t fame — it’s my séance tone, every rhyme I spit rebuilds your bones. You rise, you spin, my dead encore, each rhyme a key, each bar a door. Sway with me now, you can’t feel the pain, your hearts keep time with the pulse of my chain. You came for a show — now you sing my refrain, your voices feed the fire, your souls sustain. I told you not to follow the sound. You did. You heard it call, you turned around. I did. Now every beat you move to seals your name in ash. Keep dancing — it’s all you have left. Dance with the dead when the clock hits one, from dusk to dawn the show ain’t done. The grave’s got rhythm and fear’s my drum, I am the show — and the song’s begun. Static hums, stage lights die, but the mic still waits for another try. If you hear my name from the floor tonight — don’t sing along. You won’t survive the light.
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