They put me up against her? This gon' be poetic justice... Somebody tell this spark she steppin’ in the dark. I came from backstreets, battle scars and flatlines, You came from fat tapes, payphones, and landlines. Talk that OG talk, but your spine crackin’— I bend bars like iron doors in Rikers clackin’. You a museum piece, I’m a cipher flame, They stream me worldwide, you still sign your name. I’m the glitch in your system, a fire in your vinyl, You Pac with a pager—irrelevant, spinal. I spit heat that make boroughs pivot, You rap in Morse code—no one wanna decode the gimmick. Call yourself Gravestone? That’s poetic, chief— You buried in the past, I’m breathin' through the beat. Got more reach than your old-school label, I write scripts like Scorsese at a Brooklyn cable. You spit with pride, I spit with purpose, You fight for legacy—I fight like I’m worthless. I was carved from cold winters, raised by street codes, You was born in a hashtag, molded by cheat codes. I bled through rhymebooks, learned war with pens, You chase clout—I buried realer foes in tenements. I don’t chase the flash, I conjure the storm, Taught killers how to rhyme while your idols were born. Legacy heavy, my presence make echoes shake, You viral for a week—I’m the reason mics break. They call you Flame? Cool—I done danced through fire, Broke bread with lifers that’d never retire. You fast with the tongue, but hollow in soul, You TikTok battles, I silence parole. See, I don’t write to trend—I document pain, My bars pull spirits like a track through rain. You tryna win a crown, I defend my name— In this cipher, respect ain’t a game, it’s a chain. This ain’t no stage... it’s a graveyard... Where names fade fast... and the bars hit hard... Legends don’t talk... they leave the yard scarred... This ain’t no stage... it’s a graveyard... You actin’ like rap’s a tomb, I’m here to exhume it, Flipped the format, wrote your eulogy through it. You flipped what? A reel? I flipped cells and time, You viral—I’m vital, my ink made of grime. You rap like a judge—long-winded, stone face, But I jury the crowd, my bars crack the whole case. Child, I battle in silence, no dance, no flash, When I spit, gods listen—and devils rehash. I spit like I’m starvin’—you spit like you bitter, I turn these rhymebooks to plates, you just litter. I built this cipher from marrow and mud, You talk legacy? I paid in blood. They ain’t want me in the room—I broke the window, climbed in. Rhymes fed me when the fridge was whinin’. I lost brothers to the game, some to steel bars, And some to labels with too many PRs. I’m not here to replace—I’m here to erase, Every faded name etched in ego and bass. Your flow antique, mine’s a Tesla burst, With lyrics so live they rehearse in reverse. I don’t need a co-sign, I sign my lane, You a paragraph in history—I’m writin’ the flame. I battled doubt, hunger, labels and norms, I’m every hood girl they said wouldn’t perform. So keep your plaques, your props, your sobbin’ fan letters, I build empires from syllables—bars like vendettas. You said this a grave? Cool—I’m Queen of the dirt, Walk off with your shadow draggin' my skirt. I don’t battle for cheers—I battle for ghosts, For every cypher I bled in, I offer a toast. Your fire’s bright now—but night always comes, And I’ve seen many flames fall under their own tongues. I war with presence, precision, and pain, You rhyme for reactions—I rhyme with the slain. I was ghostin' on tracks before ghostin' meant vanish, You mimic legends—I banish in Spanish. You hungry? I respect it—but this lane’s a curse, This mic built coffins, this beat births the worst. So when the silence comes, and the echoes die— Know your crown’s made of ash, and I’m the reason why. "Legends fall... Queens rise." © 2025 - skvadMC
