Sizzle Sermons (Remastered)

[Verse 1] It’s 7:06, city’s cryin’ on the windows, Rain tap-dancin’ on rusted fire escapes in limbo. I’m up in socks with holes like Swiss, Coffee drippin’ slow while I reminisce. Fridge hums blues like a vinyl loop, Three eggs, two links, and a dream to recoup. Skillet on flame like my thoughts pre-caffeine, I cook like confessionals—messy, but clean. Click-clack of spatulas like tap shoes on tile, Grease poppin' truths I ain’t heard in a while. My robe got pockets full of to-do lists and lint, But I’m flippin’ these yolks like I’m printin’ intent. [Hook – Short & Repeated] Eggs in the pan, pain on the shelf, Sausage sizzlin’ like I’m cookin’ myself. Rain’s got rhythm and the city’s asleep, But my breakfast bars run seven yolks deep. [Verse 2] Microwave beep’s my bassline tick, Toast is the chorus, butter makes it stick. Oil-slick kitchen got a vibe all its own, Gospel of grits in a broken-down home. Got bacon envy but I’m workin’ with less, Spam in the cupboard like government checks. Hot sauce sermon in a cracked glass vial, Drippin’ redemption on this inner-city mile. Steam fogs the glass like my future’s unclear, But I plate this poetry like a pioneer. Laughed at by life but I still make meals, Stackin’ metaphors on my windowsill. [Hook – Repeat] Eggs in the pan, pain on the shelf, Sausage sizzlin’ like I’m cookin’ myself. Rain’s got rhythm and the city’s asleep, But my breakfast bars run seven yolks deep. [Verse 3] Crumbs on the counter, hope in the drawer, Pajamas stained like the week before. But I spit bars into the steam with flair, Rhymes stickin’ to the walls like frying pan prayers. Neighbor’s dog barkin’ a beat next door, I harmonize with the hiss from the floor. Used to wake up stressin’—now I just fry, Breakin’ fast with a grin and a side of why. Life don’t taste right without a lil’ laugh, Even when the stove’s broke and I’m doin’ the math. But I serve these lines with a sear and a smirk, Like “Damn, this verse got sausage and work.”