[Hype] [Hype 1:] Reap—reap—reap! [Hype 2:] He comin’—he comin’! [Hype 1:] Cold work, cold work! [Hype 2:] Hand-picked, hand-picked! [Hook] I’m the cold hand, the midnight stitch, I move silent, makin' bodies twitch, City sleeps, I collect the debts, Paper trails, crooked loose threats. List of names in a folder black, Night road maps where I track, I come for those that dodge the light No mercy ledger, Man I keep it tight — Clocks stop, breath drops, I’m the frost, never stops, Hands clean, mind warped — Reaper’s work, never soft. [Verse 1] Find the file: missing key, no alibi, no plea, Cops closed case, on the surface, Dust on the shelf — still give me purpose. They ghosted pain, silver tongues, a child’s toy left in the trunk, I read the space, between the lies, cold ink points, to where they'll die. Concrete names, phone rings dead, midnight sermons, warped threads, No altar there to pray the sins away — I stitch the loose thread anyway. I walk blocks where echoes keep secrets, alley mirrors show us the regrets, I count breaths like currency — yours spent, not collected yet. Paper cuts from old cover-ups, glass floors where truth gets crushed, I take my oath in winter wind, watch the guilty hush, I never bend You hid behind your cheap applause, behind the Judges and fucked up laws, Every shadow’s got a number — and I’m dialing cause… [Verse 2] They thought they’d vanish in the fog, slip in static, lose the log, But every crooked trade leaves a mark — and I know how to cog. Street preacher’s whisper, mother’s cry on loop in broken sleep, I follow tiny steady beats where traces refuse to sleep. No saints in these city blocks — just ledger boys with dirty clocks, I collect the unpaid interest, snap the thread, unlock the box. [Hype men: (low)]He’ll find you. [Reaper:] 1—2—3, the blueprint’s cold, methodical geometry, I empty pockets of their pride, take the names that tried to hide. You cleaned your prints with sermon lies, tossed your guilt where darkness lies, I’m patient — winter patience — watch me harvest alibis. [Bridge] Whispered names like winter smoke — you breathe them out, you choke. Hands that write in crimson ink — I turn the pages; watch you sink. [Hype men: (echo)] Reap it. Reap it. [Verse 3] Trophyless, I don’t gloat — I list. Cold ledger, ironed list. Names that vanished from the news — I place them back inside the mist. You chased a market for your vice, sold faith for a thin device, Left a little life in a locked room — I tally sins like sacrifice. They burned the tape, they cut the cords, they lit the alibi with chords, But silence is a liar too — it hums and points and then affords. I’m not a monster — I’m a balance, scales heavy, blackened talons, I move like frost through window cracks; I’m the silence that unravels. [Hype men: (low)] He don’t miss. [Reaper:] Night maps, worn gloves, fingerprints on counterfeit love. I calculate the debt you owe — keep the books cold, let it show. [Verse 4] Last verse, last name in the stack — ledger closed, lock the back, You lived like vultures pick the bone, forgot the reaper keeps the track. No confession needed, no stage, no plead — the law’s a broken cage, I snap it shut on crooked kings who sing from poisoned page. [Hype men:] (menacing) Pay the toll. [Reaper:] Your empire built in smoke and vice, I come collect the final slice. I move through alleys with my hands — careful, quiet — no demands, Just method, time, a winter grin, the hush between the bands. You bought silence, thought you won — echoes say you owe the sun, I’m the winter that remembers — and your due will be done. [Hook] I’m the cold hand in the midnight stitch, I move silent, I don’t twitch, City sleeps, I collect the debts, paper trails and crooked threats. Unsolved names in a folder black, night road maps where I track, No mercy ledger, keep it tight — I come for those that dodge the light. Clocks stop, breath drops, I’m the frost that never stops, Hands clean, mind warped — reaper’s work is never soft. [Outro] I fold the file, pin the names, another cold night, another claim. [Hype men:] Reap—reap—reap— (distant) [Reaper (whisper):] Keep your lights on, keep your lies close, I’m outside where the cold wind blows. [Hype men: (distant bells)] He’s outside.
