Ink on the pavement, hear the city talk Every line I write leave a chalk-white mark I map blocks with syntax, alleys in my syllables Bars do time, parole hearings in the intervals Raised where the truth cost interest just to mention it So I pay it back in metaphors, principal with venom in Pages smell like stairwells, rain, and bad decisions Hope tucked in the margins, fear fighting superstition I don’t rap for applause, I document conditions Wordplay got surveillance, every scheme suspicious They hear the knock when the kick drum land Every sentence feel like a contraband plan Ink on the pavement, I write where I stand Blood in the metaphor, mic in my hand Ink on the pavement, can’t wash this away Truth too heavy for the streets I say it anyway I bend time with a comma, pause wars with a dash Make a period hit harder than the point of a gat I been carving my name where the sirens react Storytelling with the scars, every chapter a flashback From hunger to hunger, just different plates Same city, new wolves, same cynical fates I lace wisdom in threats, education in rage So the youth hear a mirror when I spit on the stage If I fall, let the verses stand trial Let the truth run wild Ink… on… the… pavement… Ink on the pavement, I write where I stand Blood in the metaphor, mic in my hand Ink on the pavement, can’t wash this away Truth too heavy for the streets I say it anyway Still writing when the lights go grey Ink on the pavement, that’s how I stay
