**[Intro]** Aight. Watch the vowel rot. I ain’t repeating shit. I’m dragging it. **[Verse 1]** Sit in that fortress with a criminal vision feeding kids a digital prison, no fucking wisdom sell “minimal friction” like the climb’s a decision then flex clinical precision on a counterfeit system Cynical wisdom, look at the physical symptoms you preach ritual rhythm then hide from the friction every public depiction’s a walking contradiction got the timeline addicted to a hollow-ass conviction Sadistic logistics in the camera statistics talk ballistic tactics with no realistic ballast characteristic panic when the lights hit the attic heuristic theatrics — whole brand’s a bad habit, bitch Kick the grid with a digital vision spit the script with a cynical system clip the clip with a clinical rhythm then flip the script when the physical hits him **[Hook]** Talk big. Live small. Build high. Still fall. Loud mouth. Weak spine. Gold chain. Thin line. **[Verse 2]** You painted a picture of a radical mission then rented a prison and called it a kingdom minimal diction when the questions get vicious clinical distance from the actual victims — fuck you Cynical system selling physical “wisdom” ritual rhythm over digital fiction every contradiction dressed as conviction statistics don’t lie when the logistics start slipping Ballistic theatrics, sadistic the branding realistic the panic when the cameras start scanning characteristic collapse in the attic you’re planning heuristic the exit — you never had a landing, damn Hit the kick with a digital prison rip the script with a cynical vision click the clip with a clinical system then dip the grip when the physical’s missin’ **[Hook]** Talk big. Live small. Build high. Still fall. Loud mouth. Weak spine. Gold chain. Thin line. **[Verse 3]** Compound cathedral with a criminal vision young minds locked in a digital prison you sold ’em the friction as a holy decision but the precision was always a counterfeit system Now the wisdom’s just symptoms the rhythm’s just fiction the depiction’s contradiction the conviction’s eviction You talk like a prophet with a pocket full of courses preach “escape the matrix” from a house full of cameras call it discipline — it’s a kennel with a dress code call it empire — it’s a group chat and a debit Kick. Grid. Digital. Spit. Script. Cynical. Clip. Click. Clinical. Then the physical hits and the ritual’s finished. **[Outro]** Talk big. Live small. Build high. Still fall. That’s it. That’s the whole speech. Sit down. **[End]**
