[88 BPM.Solo STiLT:gritty melodic male boom bap,swing,hard rests.Female ONLY falsetto.] [INTRO—8 bars;Memphis 808,cowbell,claps,minor-key loop] [STiLT,low](Ayo…Three-star STiLTSKiN.) [Tape-stop;NY boom bap drops] [VERSE 1A—STiLT,16 bars;melodic swing] Tickets on the rail—constellations in the steel, Midnight service, Gemini—which of us is real? Orders in an orbit, little planets on the pass, One slip and a world comes apart beneath the glass. I work the line, write the lines, read the lifelines in my palm, Three roads through one hand; not a one of ‘em is calm. Steam sketches twins in chrome; their outlines blur, Blue flame stays breathing; Skin begs, “Let it burn.” Castor in the mirror, Pollux flickers in the glare, Two stars in one heaven, with no sky to share. Third light’s not a planet; it’s the spark when tempers clash, STiLT steps from the smoke, constellation in the ash. Three burns on my knuckles, three stars above their door, Guide names the dinner; can’t say what the fire’s for. Stars for their service; mine live underneath, They called it burning out; I banked the buried heat. [FEMALE TEASER—high falsetto,vinyl scratch] Y’all can’t—(can’t,can’t) [Cut] [VERSE 1B—STiLT,16 bars;internal runs] Mise en place—the moon hangs in a polished mixing bowl, Quarter onions into crescents; tears under control. Saturn in the shallots, rings collapsing in the pan, Each layer’s a lifetime folded smaller by my hand. Time is thyme; strip stems, watch the hours lose their leaves, Shift steals a season; still the supper never grieves. Three Michelin stars, three scars beneath my sleeve, One in ink on the page; the other’s written into me. I cut against the grain—of meat, tradition, and the groove, Knife on the one, punchline waits until the two. The pass: event horizon—watch a plate disappear, Black hole on the other side: my overtime lands here. Scrape the fond for history; reduce it into truth, What they skim off the surface took a lifetime to produce. They said, “Know your place”; I moved the center of the room, Lit sunrise from a pilot, served it on a silver spoon. [PRE-HOOK—STiLT male;drums thin,hard rests] AYO! A little alliteration—listen to the pressure speak, Patiently pacing impatient cadences on beat. Still not peaking yet—but bet—I make the offbeat leap, Off the creativity leash…(leash…leash…) [DEAD SILENCE—1 beat] [CHORUS—FEMALE ONLY;8 bars;upfront,high clear soaring falsetto] Y’all can’t—(can’t,can’t,can’t) [Scratch;ascending melody] FUCK WITH MEEEEEEE! Y’all can’t—can’t possibly— [Climb higher;long sustained note] FUCK WITH MEEEEEEE! [MEMPHIS BOUNCE DROP—4 bars;808 glide,cowbell,claps,chopped “me-me-me”] [Snap to swung boom bap] [VERSE 2A—STiLT,16 bars;melodic,double-time] Black hole in the pay stub—overtime gets swallowed, Dark matter in the kitchen: feel my pull but never follow. They orbit for the courses, can’t name the cook, See plated constellations, not the fire it took. On the pass my past gets plated, seconds for the gods, Clock’s hands never help, so mine keep beating odds. Build stock from broken bones, backbone out of scraps, Took marrow from the bad years; put its flavor in the track. They want sauce without source, a course without the miles, They eat my hours by the bite and pay the check in smiles. Every paper star on the rail keeps asking me to bleed, Skin taps three burns on my wrist: “That’s the rating you need.” Rare form, music’s my medium; when it’s finished—well done, Chef and shadow spark a sun only STiLT can summon. Three-star STiLTSKiN—I don’t borrow light to shine, Got the twins inside the chrome and a third flare on the line. [FEMALE TEASER—falsetto,scratch] Y’all can’t…possibly— [Cut] [VERSE 2B—STiLT,16 bars;callbacks,slow finish] Back to tickets on the rail—the sky ain’t changed, I did, I mistook the pull for purpose; went wherever gravity led. Castor to my left, Pollux to my right, RJ and Skin cast one shadow when the burners flare at night. The third ain’t on the chart; it’s what the friction made, STiLT is sparks that kiss the edge of a chef’s blade. Three stars on the doorway, three scars I never hide, They keep what they award; I wear the ones I earned with pride. Reduction from the sauce—what lives when fire leaves, Expansion from the heavens—how a spark refuses grief. They said, “Know your place”; I changed the placement of the flame, Let orbit lose its master; let the sky relearn my name. The line I worked became the line I wrote, became my lifeline, My burns became a star map they can’t co-sign. When I left, they said the star burnt out beneath their heat— Nah—I was never burning out. I was burning into me. [FINAL CHORUS—FEMALE ONLY;full soaring falsetto over Memphis bounce] Y’all can’t—(can’t,can’t,can’t) [Scratch;climbing run] FUCK WITH MEEEEEEE! Y’all can’t—can’t possibly— [Highest held note] FUCK WITH MEEEEEEE! [OUTRO—8 bars;808,cowbell,“meeeee” echo,vinyl fade]
