Tick-tock, motherfucker. Time keeps moving, I keep building. Software. Production. Music. Ambition. And when I'm bored? I suddenly become Raplover. So... I'm Raplover. I'm clocking the seconds, dissecting the method, Two separate careers, one obsession with leverage. I engineer systems, then engineer records, One makes computers obey, one makes speakers rebellious. I put time in a loop, now the loop's got a deadline, I spend hours making seconds sound better the next time. Got a clock on the wall and a world in my hard drive, I'm behind on my sleep, but ahead in my archives. I'm writing a function, then functioning off rhythm, My code needs a bracket, my verse needs precision. One error crashes a program, one error ruins a sentence, Both teach you that confidence can't substitute for attention. I give every minute a job, put the seconds on payroll, Make the hours produce till the clock needs a day off. They say time is money, then explain this recession: I'm investing my life, but the clock charges interest. I'm bored, open Suno, now suddenly there's a production, One prompt turns to ten, now I'm trapped in construction. I came for distraction, got lost in percussion, Sunrise at the window like, "Bro, what the fuck have you done?" I'm generating tracks while my brain generates questions, Regenerating generations of musical experiments. My boredom has children, my songs have descendants, I made one for amusement, now it's got its own relatives. But pressing generate doesn't mean I've mastered production, That's like calling yourself a chef for watching an oven. Suno's my playground, but the craft's what I'm chasing, I want hands on the mix, every sound in its placement. I want drums I can sculpt, every frequency measured, Make a kick hit the chest like a deadline under pressure. Make the snare split the silence, let the silence say something, Put a rest in the right place, now the pause says a hundred. I'm designing the logic, then logically plotting How to turn an idea to a product worth launching. I'm debugging the process, the progress is constant, Got a mind full of projects with projects on projects. I write code to create what I couldn't locate, Then create me a beat while the code compiles late. I'm dividing my time, but the time won't divide, Got two different futures sharing one pair of eyes. If a program needs logic, then a verse needs a pattern, I make both of them work till the errors stop happening. One career builds the platform, the other provides it a soundtrack, I could code you the stage, then produce what they dance at. They say time flies, but I never see wings, Just a deadline approaching with a mouth full of teeth. My calendar's looking like a criminal's record, Every date is a charge, every task is a sentence. I don't kill time. I put it on trial. The clock's got a face, but it can't face me now. My boredom has a discography, think about that, I get tired of doing nothing, then do nothing but tracks. My future called collect, I declined the damn charges, I'm too busy constructing what I said I'd accomplish. I'm learning to engineer systems while engineering sound, Trying to build something real that can stand on its ground. One craft speaks logic, one speaks through the heart, One builds the machine, one gives meaning to art. If I master them both, there's a twist in the plan: I can build you the software, then score the whole program. I'm not claiming a crown for a skill I ain't mastered, I'm preparing for the day when the work speaks louder. There's a difference between dreaming and developing talent, One imagines the future, the other builds toward it. Boredom's the trigger, the clock is the witness, Suno gets the visit when my brain needs a minute. But the minute turns to hours, now the hours have vanished, I went looking for a pastime and came back with an album. I don't need every second to turn into gold, I need enough discipline to do what I told Myself when excitement disappears from the room, 'Cause a dream's just a thought till you give it some proof. Time keeps moving. I keep building. Software. Production. Music. Ambition. And when I'm bored? I suddenly become Raplover. So... I'm Raplover. And apparently... I've got time to make another one. [Clock stops] [Three to seven marching snare hits]
