Woke up this mornin'. Sun beatin' down my neck like a damn accusation. Y'know? Like it knows. You ever feel that? Like the sky's watchin' you? Judging. Yeah. A-and you're smilin' right back. Grinnin' like a fool who don't know he's already on fire. [Beat drops HARD. Abrasive, distorted 808s and a frantic, skittering hi-hat pattern. The flow is aggressive, rapid-fire, and full of internal rhymes] [Verse] Yuh! Another day in the furnace, I'm earnin' this, furnace on my back Got the A/C blastin' fiction, a fact is, I'm burnin' through the rack See the paper stack, a sermon for the lack, I serve it and attack The pinnacle of livin', a given, I'm driven 'til the tires go flat Sun-kissed skin on a Benz that's all black, the parallax is a trap They toast to my health, my wealth, my self, but the climate is a cap A ceiling on the feelin', I'm revealin' the peeling paint on this holy mission A king in a kingdom with a heat condition, a royal with a soul's malnutrition! I'm the life of the party, the heart of the block, they all flock to the light I give But the bulb is burstin', I'm cursin' the very verses that taught me how to live Is it triumph if you're heavin'? Is it progress if you're grievin'? Is this the paradise I was weavin' or a hot-boxed hell I'm barely breathin' in? YAWK! YAWK! YAWK! YAWK! [Chorus - The beat shifts slightly, becoming more grandiose but also more menacing. The flow is a powerful, rhythmic chant.] (BITTERSWEET HEATWAVE!) Yeah, I prayed for the summer, now I'm diggin' a grave in it! (BITTERSWEET HEATWAVE!) Got the world in my palm but I'm feelin' enslaved in it! The sun give me life but the pressure it gave Got me lookin' at God like, "Am I supposed to be saved in it?" This the Bittersweet Heatwave! This the price that I paid for it! [Verse 2 - The flow becomes more erratic, stumbling over itself, then catching fire again. The voice shifts in pitch, angrier and more desperate. Ad-libs are more frantic.] Wait. Who am I kiddin'? I wrote the damn script Every win, every sin, every venomous lip that I kissed Was a choice, right? My voice, right? I hoist my own flag on the mast But the wind ain't my own and the heat from the throne is a future that's built on my past! (Ugh!) Suffocatin' slow in the thick of it, I'm sick of it, the politics Of my own damn mind, I'm a hypocrite, I light the wick and then I gotta sit in it! I'm seein' mirages of prophets, they're tellin' me stop this, they're pointin' at coffins That look just like me, it's costin' me everything, what did I profit? I wanted the blaze, the long, golden days, the accolades and the fiery praise Now I'm stuck in the haze, in a blistering maze, just a phase, that's what everyone says! But a phase is a temporary state, my fate feels sealed in this sweltering hate This love/hate, this push/pull, can't think straight, starin' at my reflection on a clean plate! And the face ain't mine, it's a pantomime, a well-rehearsed, pre-determined lie! So I scream at the sky, "Why? Why? WHY?!" And the sun just glares with a vacant eye. [Chorus - The beat hits even harder. The vocal delivery is raw, almost shouted, full of passion and fury.] (BITTERSWEET HEATWAVE!) Yeah, I prayed for the summer, now I'm diggin' a grave in it! (BITTERSWEET HEATWAVE!) Got the world in my palm but I'm feelin' enslaved in it! The sun give me life but the pressure it gave Got me lookin' at God like, "Am I supposed to be saved in it?" This the Bittersweet Heatwave! This the price that I paid for it! [Bridge - The beat cuts out abruptly. All that remains is the sound of heavy breathing, the faint cicadas, and a low, humming bass frequency. The voice is close to the mic, raw and vulnerable.] It's a good life, though. Right? The AC is cold. The drinks are cold. The jewelry is cold. But the air... the air is thick. Like I'm breathing someone else's sigh. I'm at the top of the world... but the altitude is cookin' my brain. Glad it's here... this season... this success... But damn... it's just so... hot. [Outro - The main beat slams back in for two bars, then stops dead. The cicada sound intensifies for a moment before being cut by the sound of a match striking, then a sudden, sharp inhale. Silence.]
