Yeah… From the crates to the curb, listen… I talk slick with the pen, no gimmicks attached Concrete paragraphs, every sentence a crack Streetlight theology, learned lessons the hard way From benches and hallways where the echoes don’t part ways Clock ticks loud when the rent due late Dreams folded in wallets with a dented faith I stay sharp with the wit, dull blade get you cut Every bar like a fist when it land in the gut No glitter in the frame, just the truth in the grain If you listen close, you can hear what I’m saying Corner store scriptures, read between the lines Boom bap knockin’, make the whole block align Corner store scriptures, wordplay divine From the needle to the soul, yeah, the message survive I don’t chase radio spins, I spin legacy Dust on the fingers, that’s the real recipe Mind stay heavy but the flow stay light Like a thought at 2AM on a red-eye night Every rhyme got a purpose, no filler involved I carve names in the stone where the beats get evolved Stay humble but ready, never beg for a look Let the scratch say my name when it circle the hook They tried to water down the ink I spill Still taste iron when the truth get real Corner store scriptures, read between the lines Boom bap knockin’, make the whole block align Corner store scriptures, wordplay divine From the needle to the soul, yeah, the message survive Still writin’ history… One loop at a time.
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