[Verse 1 – Forensic Cadence] In the alley’s cold echo, where the red lights blur, I recite from the file where the dead might stir— Polygraph paragraphs, spit in locked cadence, Every bar a shard from a trauma-bombed basement. Never dead again, etched that vow in my marrow, Survival ain’t luck—it’s a ledger, it’s narrow. Thermal scope verse—see the heat on my trauma, Still smell the burn from that memory sauna. Sermon pulse hits—“Thou shall not forget,” But I forgive like a sniper resets. Confession ain’t clean, it’s forensic, scorched, Soul duct-taped shut, now I sever the torch. Reflect in the glass of a two-door Ford, Where my brother bled quiet on a splintered floorboard. They erased what he said, but I’m the echo unfiltered— I’m the notebook left burning where the archives withered. [Hook – Sermon Pulse] This ain’t ink—it’s oath. This ain’t rap—it’s code. Bleedproof journals carved where the silence froze. Apartments to alleys, stairwells to seats— I spit what don’t heal, I log what don’t sleep. [Verse 2 – Machine-Gun Cadence] I remember the sound when the latch got split, Flesh met drywall, then the gas got lit. Four men in the room, no names, no face— Just gloves and a file and a padlocked case. They asked what I knew, said the tape don’t exist, But I heard what they did—heard the scream through the hiss. One click to the left, and my ribs took fire, Second click cracked where the truth don’t expire. I bit through my tongue just to code the escape, Every syllable now is a shard of that tape. I ain't slept since then—just blink and transcribe, I'm a ghost with a journal and a court in my mind. [Hook – Sermon Pulse] This ain’t ink—it’s oath. This ain’t rap—it’s code. Bleedproof journals carved where the silence froze. Apartments to alleys, stairwells to seats— I spit what don’t heal, I log what don’t sleep. [Verse 3 – Reflective Drift] There was a moment in the basement—quiet, still, Where I swore I saw the last part of my will. My voice left my body, hovered near the vent, Heard my future self whisper, “File the descent.” I don’t rap for applause—I rap for release, For the wounds that reopen when I’m walking the streets. I seen shadows that wore my own skin like a shroud, Spoke back in my voice, said my silence was loud. Now I scribble in code, in these rooms I survived, Where betrayal was private and justice arrived Only when I spit blood in a verse that aligned With the crimes that the state never bothered to find. [Final Hook – All Cadences Interwoven] This ain’t ink—it’s oath. This ain’t rap—it’s code. Bleedproof journals carved where the silence froze. Apartments to alleys, stairwells to seats— I spit what don’t heal, I log what don’t sleep. Never dead again, I testify breath, Every bar’s a revival, every rhyme dodged death. [Outro – Whispered Truth] Keep the beat slow. Let the violin speak. Where my voice ends... the real ones leak.
