TAKE UP SPACE [INTRO — TAMPA CLUB RAP, stripped Florida bass pulse, smoky low female voice, close mic, cocky, almost amused] Turn it up. Nah— louder. [BEAT DROPS — heavy sub-bass, hard kick, sharp snare, dirty Southern club bounce] [VERSE 1 — low female rap, laid-back Tampa pocket, drag slightly behind the beat, short pauses between punches] Spent too damn long makin’ myself small, Sayin’ sorry when I wasn’t sorry at all. Crossed my legs, bit my tongue, played nice, While everybody lined up givin’ bad advice. [slight acceleration, more attitude] That shit got old— shit, so did I. Now every damn year is a reason I survived. Little more mouth, whole lot less shame, Say it with your chest when you’re sayin’ my name. [beat strips back, bass stays heavy] I used to back up just to let you through, Now I stand right here— what the fuck you gon’ do? Don’t need approval. Don’t need applause. I quit explainin’ myself because— [PRE-HOOK — clipped delivery, kick building, short female background responses] I don’t need permission. I don’t need the room. [PAUSE] Move. [HOOK — MASSIVE TAMPA CLUB CHANT, thick bass drop, stacked female gang vocals, call-and-response] I TAKE UP SPACE! [gang response: SPACE!] Every damn inch that I earned is mine. I TAKE UP SPACE! [gang response: TAKE IT!] Done standin’ pretty at the back of the line. Too loud? TOO MUCH? Baby, you ain’t seen enough. I didn’t come this far to know my place— I came to— TAKE! UP! SPACE! [VERSE 2 — harder bounce, confident Southern slur, punchy bars, occasional double-time bursts] Stretch marks, scars and a smart-ass grin, Couple bad habits I ain’t turnin’ in. Don’t dress for your eyes. Don’t talk for your ears. Ain’t watered myself down in damn near fifty years. [short laugh ad-lib] Call me difficult. Call me worse. Heard cheap opinions from expensive jerks. My confidence crawlin’ underneath your skin? Sounds like your problem— I ain’t crawlin’ in. [DOUBLE-TIME BURST — faster pocket over rolling hats, keep words sharp and understandable] See, I learned real young how to shrink for a room, How to swallow my words just to make space for you. Now my elbows out and my shoulders stay wide, You can love what you see or move to the side. [DROP BACK INTO SLOW POCKET] I ain’t lowering shit. I ain’t softening truth. I paid for this mouth with the years of my youth. So if who I became makes you nervous today— [beat cuts] Good. [low laugh] Stay nervous. [beat slams] Get the fuck out the way. [HOOK — heavier bass, louder stacked vocals, club crowd energy] I TAKE UP SPACE! Every damn inch that I earned is mine. I TAKE UP SPACE! Done standin’ pretty at the back of the line. Too loud? TOO MUCH? Baby, you ain’t seen enough. I didn’t come this far to know my place— I came to— TAKE! UP! SPACE! [BREAKDOWN — half-time Tampa bass, minimal kick and sub, nearly spoken, intimidating and sexy] Don’t tell me to smile. Don’t tell me I’m intimidating. Don’t tell me I’d be prettier if I was a little less— [LONG PAUSE] Less what? Certain? Loud? Me? [quiet laugh] Fuck that. [BASS DROP] [BRIDGE — steady club bounce rebuilding, commanding rap, stacked whispers underneath key words] Here’s to the women they called too wild, Too stubborn, too angry, too grown, too loud. The ones who got tired of suckin’ it in, Holdin’ their breath just to make people grin. Let your shoulders out. Let your backbone show. Quit askin’ permission for the space you already own. Whole damn world had plenty of time— Now they can adjust because this space is mine. [HALF-TIME — beat almost disappears, snarled close-mic delivery] They wanted a lady? [PAUSE] You got Lady Red. [FINAL VERSE — fastest Tampa club pocket, aggressive bounce, rolling hats, bass hitting between lines] I ain’t shrinkin’ for a chair, ain’t squeezin’ in a box, ain’t changing how I walk, ain’t watching how I talk. Ain’t dimmin’ down shit just to make you feel tall, if my presence feels heavy you were never that strong. [flow accelerates] Got scars. Got years. Got fire in my lungs. Got shit I should’ve said when I was twenty-one. So I’m sayin’ it now with my whole damn chest— I earned every inch. [BEAT CUT] And I’m takin’ the rest. [FINAL HOOK — full Tampa club explosion, deepest bass, stacked female chants, overlapping call-and-response] I TAKE UP SPACE! [gang: SPACE!] Every damn inch that I earned is mine! I TAKE UP SPACE! [gang: TAKE IT!] Put my name up front— I ain’t waitin’ in line! Too loud? TOO MUCH? HELL, I AIN’T LOUD ENOUGH! I didn’t survive just to know my place— I came to— TAKE! UP! SPACE! [OUTRO CHANT — bass pounding, women shouting in rhythm] TAKE! UP! SPACE! TAKE! UP! SPACE! TAKE! UP! SPACE! [BEAT HARD CUT — close-mic whisper] And if that makes you uncomfortable… [PAUSE] Move.
