[Intro: funky rhythm guitar stab, wobbling dub bass, live drums locking into a breakbeat, scratch cuts — “dough… get rich quick… mmm… somethin’ real…” — collaged voices] [whisper](dough… get rich quick… mmm… somethin’ real…) [Verse 1] [spoken-sung, streetwise, unhurried] Some cats are pushin’ maps to streets of gold, Talkin’ fast, cashin’ in on what they’ve never sold. They’ll teach ya how to hustle, how to beat the grind, But their hands stay soft while you’re losin’ your mind. Me, I’m in a flour cloud, radio low, Elbow deep in somethin’ that actually grows. A little bit of ginger, a little bit of soul, Buildin’ somethin’ warm that you can hold. [Pre-Chorus] They’re stackin’ zeros in a virtual mist, I’m makin’ gingerbread with a flick of the wrist. Ain’t a funnel scheme, just a recipe old, Feedin’ real hunger when the world turns cold. [Chorus] [hook-heavy, melodic, groove-driven] I’m kneadin’ the dough that’ll never lie, Sweet and solid while the shysters fly. You can keep your courses, your “secret how-to,” I’m makin’ real dough, man — what about you? I’m makin’ real dough. [Verse 2] They promise liberation in a PDF, A webinar miracle to wipe out debt. But the only thing risin’ is their bank account, While you’re left with a login and a sea of doubt. I’ve got cinnamon, molasses in a chipped ceramic bowl, Shapin’ little rooftops with a steady, patient soul. Every batch’s a story you can break and taste, Not a cloud of vapor in a digital waste. [Pre-Chorus] They build an empire out of opt-in air, I build a gingerbread house with genuine care. No upsell waitin’, no timer runnin’ out, Just the smell of Christmas when the day’s in doubt. [Chorus] I’m kneadin’ the dough that’ll never lie, Sweet and solid while the shysters fly. You can keep your courses, your “secret how-to,” I’m makin’ real dough, man — what about you? What about you? [Bridge] [breakdown: dub bass wobble deepens, scratching textures, half-spoken, half-sung] Flour on my shirt, truth on my tongue, Some of us are bakin’, some are just well-spun. A gingerbread man might crumble and break, But at least he was somethin’ for goodness sake. [scratch: “real… tangible… dough… no refund…”] No login needed when the gift is free, Just the honest work of a bakery. [Chorus] [full band crashes back, collage of voices, more urgency in delivery] I’m kneadin’ the dough that’ll never lie, Sweet and solid — let the gurus cry. You can keep your secrets, your “fast lane” view, I’m makin’ real dough, man — what about you? I’m makin’ real dough. [Outro] [groove decays to a sparse beat and looping hiss, spoken gently] So keep your blueprints for a digital throne… I’ll be here bakin’, flesh and bone. Some build empires that time erases… I make gingerbread… and it leaves traces. [final scratch: “smell that? … real, man, real.” tape click, silence.]
