# THE CROWN [Intro – male, East London, close mic, low-mid; dry, cocky, clipped] Everybody wants the crown. Nobody asks what it costs. Back then... man couldn't even get through the front door. Now? They open it for me. --- [Verse 1 – aggressive East London pocket; fast, cheeky, hard consonants, sly menace] Started grafting where the rent came late. Cold stairwell. Cheap coat. Rain on my face. Man said, “Bruv, there's peas round here if you're sharp.” I said, “Say less.” Didn't ask twice. First few quid felt like oxygen. Bought Mum food. Cleared a bill. New creps. Still had change. She looked at me. “Where'd you get that?” “Work.” [Small laugh.] She knew I was lying. But when you're skint, fam, you don't stare too long at where the money came from. You take it. You stack it. You keep your mouth shut. Then I clocked something... being broke gets you ignored. Being paid gets you noticed. --- [Pre-Chorus – speech-to-melody; downward scoop, delayed vowel] Hunger don't knock. It slips through the gap. Says, “One more.” [Low ghost] One more... --- [Chorus – clean higher register, chant-like; low shadow] Everybody wants the crown. Nobody wants the weight. You get the keys. You get the room. You get respect when you walk through. Everybody wants the crown. Till the crown won't let you sleep. [Low shadow] Won't sleep... [Lead] I wore mine like I couldn't lose. --- [Verse 2 – faster East London cadence; clipped rhythm, harder attacks] Twenty-two. Now man knows my face. “Safe, boss.” “Alright, bruv?” Same ends. Different plates. Phone's jumping. “Can you sort this?” “Can you pattern that?” Bare late-night pressure. I don't need the chat. Money comes quick. So do the people. New watch. New motor. Same old estate. Old mates turn up when their pockets look empty. I liked the status. Liked the way heads turned. Didn't like the ones that stopped smiling when I entered. Mum stopped asking. That was worse. --- [Pre-Chorus 2 – low, tighter; phrases rush then drop] One minute you're grafting. Next minute... man are grafting for you. [Ghost] For you... --- [Chorus 2 – more rhythmic, less melodic] Everybody wants the crown. Nobody counts the price. You get the keys. You get the room. Then every handshake comes with eyes. The crown looks cold. [Low shadow] Cold... [Lead] When you don't know who's solid. --- [Verse 3 – FAST double-time; percussive attacks, internal rhymes, controlled menace] Thirty-one. Now I don't chase. They come to me. Word gets round. “Boss, this.” “Boss, that.” Bare man talking. Bare man needing. Bare man asking where the line is. I don't point. I don't shout. I just look. Room goes quiet. One nod. That's enough. Money up. Sleep down. New house. Same town. Black glass. Phone face-down. Bigger table. Nobody sitting. Whole gang round me. Still nobody with me. [Dead stop.] That's the crown. --- [Bridge – stripped, intimate; low spoken, breath cuts, throat grain] From the pavement... it looked like freedom. From the top... it looks like a lock. Mum said, “Come home.” I said, “Soon.” [Pause.] Man says “soon”... when he doesn't know how to say “never.” [Breath.] I thought respect meant people stayed. Turns out... sometimes they just stay careful. --- [Verse 4 – older voice; quicker clipped bursts, rougher, less slang] Forty-five. Still the name. Still the room. Still the nod. Still no sleep. Men step aside before I reach the table. But the house is quiet. Too quiet. Every lock. Every car that slows outside. Doctor says, “Your heart's taking the strain.” I laugh. “Been taking worse for years.” Then I see a young boy watching from across the street. Same hungry eyes. Same dream. He thinks the crown is something you win. [Pause.] I nearly tell him, “Don't.” But I know that look. I wore it too. --- [Build – whispered street fragments, accelerating] More. One more. Pattern it. Move up. Take more. [Rapid] More money. More power. More fear. More names. [Hard stop.] More... --- [Final Chorus – low chest voice, then clean high lift; strongest attitude, tight layered hook] Everybody wants the crown. Nobody wants the weight. You get the keys. You get the room. You get the nod. You get the name. Till you wake up... and there's no one left. [Low shadow] No one left... [Lead – higher] I wore it like it made me strong. [Brief breath.] It just made me hard to reach. [Both] Everybody wants the crown. But the crown... takes more than it gives. [Ghost] More than it gives... [Lead – low] That's the bit they never tell the kid. --- [Outro – close mic, dry, almost spoken] Everybody wants the crown. [Pause.] Man... you better know what comes with it.
