Cracked Wax Chronicles

[Verse] Corner stoop gospel, preaching through the haze Pavement sermons, broke dreams in a maze Corner stoop gospel, preaching through the haze Pavement sermons, broke dreams in a maze Potholes deeper than my uncle's regrets Dice hit the curb, cash traded for debts Steel bars hum lullabies, symphonies of sirens Graffiti hieroglyphs, the hood's secret writin' Ashtray sky, clouds coughing up soot Rats dance on wires, sneakers hangin' by a foot [Chorus] City don't sleep, it just blinks and breathes Concrete jungle where the wind still seethes Concrete jungle, ain't no retreat Echoes of the struggle in the beat, repeat [Verse 2] Lunch money ransom, traded for survival Hopscotch squares where war plans go viral Grimy knuckles gripping, the cold steel hums Fingers twitch like basslines, the snare drum comes Dreams break brittle, chalk outlines their fate Ambition got evicted, hope locked out the gate Sewer steam rises, a ghost of ambition Every block a story, every scar's transmission [Bridge] Broken hydrants cry, tears flood the street Sidewalks crack open, secrets underneath Train screeches echo, ghosts on the rail Every corner whispers, "Who gon' prevail?" Train screeches echo [Verse] Dust cloud risin’, needle hits the groove Basement tapes spin, that old-school mood Snare pop dirty, like soles on the street Crumbling tenements, where the shadows meet Brick walls whisper, graffiti confessions Lost in the loops, time-stamped obsessions Crates dig deep, buried treasure unearths Every scratch a relic, a sound rebirth [Chorus] Cracked wax spinning, stories untold Memories etched in that dusty gold Boom-bap echoes, the soul unfolds In the cracks, in the grooves, truth takes hold [Verse 2] Cigarette haze mix with the bassline’s hum Echoes of cyphers, where the real ones come Streetlamp sermons, broken bottles preach Every crack in the pavement’s a lesson to teach Fingers on the fader, cut sharp like glass Past haunts the present, shadows don’t pass These beats ain’t clean, raw as the block Every bar drips truth, every rhyme a clock [Bridge] Fragments of the past stitched into the now Time machine rhythms, I don’t know how Turntables spin like the world on its axis Reality raw, no filters, no practice