💵 Casket Currency | #soundseasons

💵 Casket Currency Boom Boom, #soundseasons Full video here https://youtu.be/bR7Z7k6oIJA?si=zKpYEN8l41uc2f54 Intro They told me I was priceless... But they printed my pain on flyers. Said “rest in peace,” but someone got paid. You think we broke? Nah. We just pay with different things. Verse 1 They sellin’ stories in chalk lines, funerals on consignment, Bob’s Pawn printed flyers, death got alignment. I watched Mari fade on the steps of the Lord, Ascension don’t lift you when you’ve been ignored. Obits read like invoices, stitched in pain, Caskets like credit cards we swipe in vain. You think breath comes free? Nah, that’s emotional debt, We owe our own bodies for the tears we ain’t wept. The hood got bankers, they just don’t wear ties, They balance ledgers in backrooms where hope dies. I seen boys cashed out before they knew life, Laid out on Westmoreland like a tithe to the night. Hook Casket currency, death got rates, Every loss taxed, every silence inflates. They buy your story once your heart goes still, You’re worth more... than the hospital bill. Casket currency, hood don’t loan, You pay in scars, in nights alone. They count your trauma like equity shares, But you alive? Then nobody cares. Verse 2 Your name’s gold when it’s tagged on Hope Park walls, But ours loop in veins of those who still stand tall. That mural at Indiana said “Time Will Tell,” But clocks don’t tick for the ones who fell. Uncle Tone got clipped, they called it fate, But I still see him in dreams outside that gate. Kev got zipped and I kissed his head, They cashed him out. I still ain’t cleared that debt. You don’t know the price unless you paid in ghosts, Unless your breath got taxed just to make a toast. We don’t buy Jordans, we invest in defense, Spend dreams on survival, hustle past tense. Hook (evolved) Casket currency, our loss won’t break us, We pay in scars, but still stand gracious. They buy your story once your heart goes still, You’re worth more... than the hospital bill. Nunca te olvidamos. Lo sentimos, hermana. (We still here… We still here…) Bridge They don’t pay attention... 'Til you paid the ultimate. They don’t value your verse... Until it’s posthumous. Final Verse I write like my name’s in probate court, Like my bars got debt collectors knockin’ with force. But I ain’t broke, I’m a vault with no code, Buried value in verses they can’t decode. Boom Boom ain’t profit, I’m prophecy in flesh, Every rhyme a receipt for what this world suppressed. They wanna cash in on pain, I invoice in blood, Stamped: survivor. My worth? Too heavy to flood. That mural at Indiana said “Time Will Tell,” But clocks don’t tick for the ones who fell. Outro They count us out… Then count up streams. But I don’t rap for algorithms, I rap for the ones they priced in grief.