Target: ~3:25 Delivery: commanding Southern conversational rap; internally rhymed, controlled, no rushed double-time unless momentarily earned ⸻ [0:00–0:13 | INTRO — three-note motif, bare drums] Funny thing ’bout winning… Nobody tell you what come with it. Everybody want the crown. Ain’t nobody asking who gotta carry it. ⸻ [0:13–0:49 | VERSE 1 — authority, life inventory] I done seen a broke man keep more peace than a millionaire Seen a millionaire lose sleep ’cause the mirror there Had the whole city saying king when my crib still had problems Whole lotta commas don’t make you more solid Bankhead taught survival before business taught leverage Same game, different table now the contracts got decimals Used to measure success by the rims and the residence Now I measure that shit by who eat when I exit it That’s growth. Young me would’ve called it soft Till you bury enough partners and calculate what it cost Everybody wanna make it Nobody say from what Some people escape the hood Then carry the hood in they gut I did. Took the anger everywhere like protection Made respect an addiction Turned pride into profession Then one day you get still enough to ask yourself a question: If everybody know my name— Who know my direction? ⸻ [0:49–1:07 | PRE-HOOK — drums reorganize] Had to unlearn what kept me alive Some armor protect you Some armor don’t let you arrive Ain’t scared of the bottom I know how to climb But what good is touching the top If you leave nothing behind? ⸻ [1:07–1:34 | HOOK — universal, big without pop] It’s work after the crown When the lights go down When they don’t scream your name Is your name still sound? I done had money I done had power Found out neither one can buy one more hour So I’m building now Something bigger than me If the whole world listening— Give ’em something they can keep. ⸻ [1:34–2:09 | VERSE 2 — bridge between generations] Young twin wilding I ain’t judging that phase I remember being twenty thinking death was afraid Difference is now they got a camera on rage One bad night become content before mama know what happened that day That’s cold. Algorithm monetize grief Everybody screaming freedom while they leasing belief Got children learning value from whoever trending this week Then wonder why they got everything and still don’t feel complete I ain’t finna preach though I know what that sound like Old head saying “back when”—young folk tune out, right? So I meet ’em where they at Motion, racks, nightlife Then slip something real in it Like vegetables in fried rice Own something. Know something. Love somebody past lust. Get some people around you that ain’t impressed by your stuff. Read what you signing. Question what they selling. If your homie crashing out— Being real might mean telling him. That ain’t square. That’s somebody planning ahead. Ain’t nothing gangsta about everybody in the gang being dead. ⸻ [2:09–2:25 | TURN — bass carries groove] I want the young ones richer But richer in more ways Money, mind, land Time… Whole days. I want my sons past me. That’s how succession work. If your children gotta start where you started— What was all that work? ⸻ [2:25–2:52 | HOOK 2] It’s work after the crown When the lights go down When they don’t scream your name Is your name still sound? I done had money I done had power Found out neither one can buy one more hour So I’m building now Something bigger than me If the whole world listening— Give ’em something they can keep. [2:52-3:25 | OUTRO - motif alone] It’s work after the crown When the lights go down When they don’t scream your name Is your name still sound? I done had money I done had power Found out neither one can buy one more hour So I’m building now Something bigger than me If the whole world listening— Give ’em something they can keep.
