[Intro – Spoken | dead center | no reverb] Crate diggazzz… Ain’t no comfort in this shit… Just my mind… Expanding outward… [Verse 1 | calm, surgical | slight drag behind beat] Ash residue scattered, pattern fractured, loop damaged Pentagon collapsed in the blaze, now the whole truth vanished Samples chopped into fragments, drum machine charred and blackened Every word once spoken, now stutters like partial language Analog anguish achieved, every hiss got a lineage Sound pressed into wax, every sentence got significance Rhythm lag with the swag, ligament ruptured in it Sequence off beat but complete, still dope in its existence I don’t patch the present, I examine the session Tempo staggers unstable, like er-lacker aggression Never locked mind opens, keep you lifted like suspenders recoil from my weapon while I’m resistin’ arrestin’ No artificial assistance, just your eardrums ringin’ Murder hornets surround you and then start stingin’ (bzzzz) No prescription is given, you turned into the victim This ain’t surface level listen, this beat dismantles your system [Short Hook | chopped vocal | heavy drums] Put the wax on the player, let the needle skip Pure sonic terror when the speakers get lit Diggin’ through the crates, resurrectin’ that shit If the beat ain’t broken, then we gonna dismantle it [Hook – minimal | centered | slight stereo widen | slower delivery] Crate diggers… just breakin’ down the past Every record disintegrates, not surviving the blast No melody feels safe, beat cut and dissected Pure sonic terror…through sound resurrection Pure sonic terror… Pure… Sonic… Terror!! [Verse 2 | slightly more grit | layered ad-libs] Chicago air bitter, winter enter then crush ya Pure sonic terror, This beat is disgusting Got flows for days without no interruptions Drums stagger crooked patterns circle the sky like vultures City split at the seams, still I step through the minerals Every motion conflicted, like it draggin’ the schedule No decorative layers, just stay intellectual Groove unstable but precise, nothing bout it conventional Raised where the streets carried mud in the memories This beat got more legs than some fire spittin’ centipedes Now the fire burns inside me, I rebuilt my identity If it don’t make you uneasy, then it lacks credibility No illusions in the mix, no Houdini shit Every strike like the empire, backed by the words that I spit Not designed for comfort, an erratic arrangement Chaos measured and controlled while my pen hits the pages [Hook – repeat | add faint delay throws on last words] Crate diggas … just breakin’ down the past Every record disintegrates, not surviving the blast No melody feels safe, beat cut and dissected Pure sonic terror… through sound resurrection [Outro – Spoken | filtered low-pass | fade out] No harmony… No relief… I hope ur not claustrophobic… That’s what remains… when all the bullshit gets stripped. Pure… Sonic… Terror!!! [End with a 4 bar fading instrumental]
