[Intro] Tap on the rail Steel in the floor Coat smoke, cold breath Backroom war Heel hit tile Castanets click Loose tooth snare Whole room sick [Verse 1] I step in, subway halo, paint peel on the pole Jacket smell like nights I never told my parole Words dance, bull in a glass shop, red rag flow Tongue like a bodega knife, cheap but it still glow Stomp in timbs on a tilescape, floor start talking Each crack map out the paths of the dead still walking I braid slang with a sandstorm, dust in the lungs You catch asthma attacks from the weight of these puns My thought pattern? Back alley ladder to a locked roof Hand on a rusted rung, trust issues with proof I don’t punch lines, I palm strike paragraphs sideways Make a metaphor limp home, bandaged in five ways I spit algebra on avenue corners, chalk in the air X in my chest, solve that if you dare Your crew light, matchstick manners, wax in a storm I’m the last loose brick in the wall that never was torn [Bridge] [DJ cuts up last line: “never was torn” into stutters] [Flamenco guitar run, palmas clapping in double-time] [Scratches weave between vocal chops, snare and bass stripped back] [Verse 2] Another voice from the smoke, I talk like a cracked vase Leak out history, drip paint on your back brace Gold teeth grin like subway sparks on a wet rail Every rhyme a stray dog biting through a junk mail trail I juggle silence, throw it high, let the echo land Palm prints on the pause button, god in the hand I’m a backroom saint with a Marlboro halo Pray over crumpled singles, change in a Solo My lines wear masks, carnival in a grim hood You read the surface, I’m carving scriptures in splintered wood The beat stomp like boots in a stairwell chase But I glide, flamenco ankle in a card game place Cardboard prophets spin windmills in the rain I autograph clouds with the smoke from my brain You just autograph sneakers, worship your own ad I hang a verse in the air, whole borough go mad [Bridge] [DJ scratches a vocal chant: “go mad… go mad…”] [Handclaps lock with rimshots, guitar tremolo swells] [Bass pulses in short jabs, vinyl hiss rising] [Verse 3] Third poet slide in silent, shadow of a fuse box Hood up like confessionals, sins in the shoebox Grit teeth through the incense of burnt brakes and beans This city my ribcage, trains run between the seams My grandma’s ghosts tap rhythm on the kitchen pan Same tempo as the platform when the crowd expand I lace pain with geometry, angles on my scars Turn every bruise into blueprints for hidden bars Battle who? I wrestle my own echo in the hall Slam myself through the drywall, answer my own call You throw shots, I throw seasons, whole weather at your chest Summer hail, winter lightning, spring knives in your vest My accent drag like a lit cigarette on tile Words sharpened on the curb, drip acid and bile But the guitar in my gut strum a stubborn bright string Even when cops at the door, I still let it ring [Bridge] [DJ cuts between soleá-style guitar phrases and vocal snippets] [Scratches dart over a bare kick and palmas, then filter sweep] [Quick spinback sets the stage for the last MC] [Verse 4] Last one in the circle, eyes red from the rust dust Breath taste like late rent, side-eye and distrust I don’t rap, I rearrange bricks with a side glance Make the building lean in, listen to this sly dance My mind a crowded hallway, broke locks and buzzers Every thought kick doors in, searching for lost brothers I wear these rhymes like thrift-store armor, patched faith Beat bang like upstairs neighbors arguing over space I toss flamenco...
