Got riches in speech, but my pocket holes hollow as hell. Got somethin' to tell, and I'm locked in this pocket, rockin' it well. These locals are trash, all that fake little flash, they ain't got any stash. Breakin' the bank with no cash, chasin' a bash. Meant for the stages β lights, limos, and fame. But spent in cages, fights, and shakin' the shackles of shame. They don't even know me, won't even show me the door, but they need to escape 'fore they have to be scraped off the floor. Beast in the booth, with fists full of truth, and lines full of lightnin'. I'm crackin' ground, creatin' sound β astoundin' and frightenin'. Faster than bullets, I push and I pull it, second to none. Pro with the lip, loadin' the clip, ready to bury 'em β they better run. Then the beat starts to glitch and I twitch, breakin' out in a cold sweat. Life's a bitch, stuck in a ditch with an itch in my head. Promised a show, but froze in flow β forgot how the hook was s'posed to go. Chasin' the dough, but I'm draggin' so slow. Tried to look cool, tripped on laces and fell. Biggest of fools, makin' faces and verses misspelled. The stories I'm sellin' are nothin' but garbage-ass ploys. It's my choice β keep pretendin', while tradin' my voice for noise. Droppin' my notes in the toilet, tryin' to save 'em but failin' while tryin'. The neighbors are knockin' β they're tired of the whinin'. Squirrel spinnin' in circles, my face is all purple β chokin' on words that I'm spittin' and thinkin' of quittin'. But late in the night, when the eyes of the high-rises go dead, I grab for the light, quiet riot runnin' wild in my head. I don't need claps or the pack of prats standin' in front of the club. Just the closed lab where I'm fixin' the flaws, tryna close every gap. In a one-room hovel, just doin' what I'm told for doit. My pen's a shovel, diggin' for gold in the dirt. My style ain't for marts, people 'round just ghosted my texts. But smart with the art, so I'm chartin', watch what's comin' up next. Grand plans in bad hands, Still craft in a cramped stance. Glad mask, sad crash, still act like it's all chance. Gift hid, lips zipped. slick wit in a split skin. Great dreams, draggin' feet, but red ink keeps me lit within. The bars barely bear it, the roof 'bout to collapse. The proof of my truth is the tooth that I lost in these raps. I'm a genius, a dummy, a dark nag in this stable. My rhymin' spills runny, punchlines leavin' my rivals disabled. Talk tough, hit hard, play sly yet know when the act lies. Same dude, three ways β big ego, dumb hope, raw heat inside. Some laugh, some ask, "Who are you?" Fine. Let 'em keep that line. 'Cause a few gonna hear when the words hit home and that's 'nough for tonight. If the love don't come β skills still there. Their hands don't clap β my hands still write. Ain't gotta be crowned to know what I got, just gotta keep gettin' it right.
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