SICK CITY [INTRO — 8 BARS — LOW ENERGY — WHISPER — PIANO, VINYL HISS, DISTANT SIRENS] Los Angeles… Pretty face. Poisoned blood. Everybody signs their name. Nobody takes the blame. They call it paradise. I call it a patient they refuse to save. [VERSE 1 — 16 BARS — COLD — LOW CONVERSATIONAL RAP — BOOM-BAP DRUMS] Sunlight bleeding through the smog, golden teeth inside its jaw. Palm trees posing for the cameras, while corruption writes the law. Numbers changing. Files misplaced. Truth gets buried in a case. Every office has a doorway, every doorway has a maze. One form says that I exist. Next one says I never did. They lose the proof, then blame the people for the evidence they hid. Signatures without a witness. Promises without a date. Money travels through the system— Help arrives a year too late. They call confusion “procedure.” Call survival “noncompliance.” Build a kingdom out of paperwork, then punish every act of defiance. Fraud wears ties. Fraud wears smiles. Fraud says, “Wait another while.” Meanwhile children pack their bedrooms into boxes in the aisle. [PRE-HOOK — 8 BARS — RISING — RAP BECOMING SHOUT — GUITAR NOISE ENTERS] This city has a fever. Everybody feels the heat. But the hands collecting money never touch the fucking street. If the truth becomes contagious, watch the liars quarantine. Los Angeles looks beautiful— Until you see what beauty eats. [CHORUS — 8 BARS — VIOLENT — CLEAN HOOK + SCREAM RESPONSES — FULL DROP F RIFF] This is a SICK CITY— Pretty lights, infected streets. Fraud is flowing through the bloodstream. Families pay for its disease. They keep washing bloody money while the innocent can’t breathe. This is a SICK CITY— And the sickness isn’t me. [gang] THE SICKNESS ISN’T ME. [POST-HOOK — 4 BARS — GANG CHANT — COWBELL AND DISTORTED 808] Receipts. Dates. Names. FOLLOW EVERY FUCKING PAGE. Receipts. Dates. Names. LET THE RECORD SHOW THEIR FACE. [VERSE 2 — 24 BARS — PARANOID — BEHIND-BEAT RAP TO DOUBLE-TIME — GLITCH CUTS] I learned survival has a language: case numbers, emails, certified. Every sentence needs a timestamp when the system learns to lie. Keep the copies. Save the notices. Photograph the damaged wall. Because the truth without a record doesn’t make a sound at all. They’ll say, “Nobody ever told us.” Say, “Your paperwork was late.” Say the records contradict you while they edit their mistakes. They’ll turn absence into evidence. Turn a question into guilt. Turn a family into numbers while protecting what they built. [FLOW ACCELERATES] Different counter, different answer, different story, same disaster. Pass the blame and close the window, make the suffering wait faster. Public promise, private profit, empty language, crowded office. If you challenge their accounting, suddenly you are the problem. I ain’t claiming I’m perfection. I can name the shit I’ve done. But my failures don’t erase the truth or make their conduct clean as one. Don’t confuse my fear with weakness. Don’t confuse my rage with lies. I became my own investigator because nobody heard my cries. Every contradiction cataloged. Every missing page retained. You can bury facts in cabinets— But the copies still remain. [PRE-HOOK — 8 BARS — RISING — CLEAN/SCRATCHED SHOUT — STRINGS CLIMB] This city has an illness. It survives when people leave. When exhaustion kills the questions and confusion buries grief. But I learned to read the poison. I can trace it through the veins. If the truth is what they’re scared of— Let the truth remember names. [CHORUS — 8 BARS — MASSIVE — CLEAN + SCREAM DOUBLES] This is a SICK CITY— Pretty lights, infected streets. Fraud is flowing through the bloodstream. Families pay for its disease. They keep washing bloody money while the innocent can’t breathe. This is a SICK CITY— And the sickness isn’t me. [gang] THE SICKNESS ISN’T ME. [BRIDGE — 8 BARS — HAUNTED — SPOKEN WORD — PIANO, STRINGS AND FEEDBACK] Maybe the city isn’t dying. Maybe it learned how to live this way. One department loses the record. Another repeats the lie. Another collects the money. Another asks the family why they couldn’t survive. Then everybody goes home… Except the people who lost theirs. [BUILD — 8 BARS — CLEAN TO SCREAM — DISTORTED 808 RISING] I’m done begging ghosts for answers. Done believing polished words. If authority demands respect, then accountability comes first. No more hiding human damage under seals and legal ink. You can paint the water golden— It is poison when we drink. [FALSE ENDING — 2 BARS — COMPLETE SILENCE] The city isn’t sick because I complained. The city is sick because nobody did. [BREAKDOWN — 12 BARS — MAXIMUM IMPACT — GUTTURAL + GANG CHANTS — HALF-TIME CHUGS] RECEIPTS. [impact] DATES. [impact] NAMES. [impact] FOLLOW EVERY PAGE. [gang] NO MORE MISSING FILES. NO MORE MOVING BLAME. NO MORE MAKING BROKEN FAMILIES PAY FOR YOUR MISTAKES. [guttural] YOU CALLED THE TRUTH A THREAT BECAUSE THE
