Yeah Don’t get it twisted I’m laughin’, not copyin’ This ain’t lyrics — this lyricism Words got purpose when I’m spittin’ ‘em Not glow talk, not gimmicks in This pen heavy — feel the difference in This ain’t vibes, this discipline Every bar got fingerprints Man talk deep, I listen then Realise they ain’t said shit again I don’t rap fast just to sound clever I slow thoughts down, stitch ‘em better Sentence bend then snap back clean Like grammar under pressure I rhyme inside pronunciation Not the bit where amateurs rest That’s why my bars don’t shine bright They bruise later in your head You hear speed, I hear placement Breath control like it’s sanctioned Comma placement intentional Full stops hit like statements Man got mirrors in every line “See myself” — yeah sick, well done Whole verse sound like a diary Written by a bot with a sad-boy thumb I don’t chase claps, I chase meaning Let bars age, not trend this evening If it don’t hit dry on first breath Then it weren’t worth me speakin’ This ain’t lyrics — this lyricism Not echo, echo, echo gimmicks in If it sound deep ‘cause it’s doubled twice That’s not depth, that’s trickery, dickhead This ain’t glow, haze, shimmer shit That TikTok pain aesthetic shit I don’t need lights to feel my bars They land ugly — that’s evidence Man say “neon tears in a broken room” Bro I’m cryin’ — but I’m laughin’ too Pink smoke, mirror soul, hollow voice Yeah cool… what the fuck did you actually do? Every tune got static pain Like sadness come with presets, mate Same four words, different font Still empty when you rearrange You wonder why my lyrics ain’t sittin’ in the field, Why the box stay empty when the track get revealed. That ain’t secret sauce, that ain’t ego or mystique, It’s ‘cause you need to learn to fuckin’ write — not repeat. I don’t hand out shapes for you to trace like school art, You want my flow without the thinkin’ part. I hide the blueprint on purpose, not ashamed, ‘Cause if you copy my structure you’ll never find your name. Don’t ask where the prompts went — that’s the test, fam, If you can’t build your own bars, don’t borrow my pen, damn. I’m not gatekeepin’ talent, I’m protectin’ the craft, You want the map to the mountain — I built it from scratch. You ask “where the prompt at?” — that question tell me plenty, If you need my sentence frame, you ain’t ready. I don’t post recipes for pain I survived, Write your own fuckin’ life — don’t download mine. If you copy how I bend my words But don’t know why they bend that way You’ll sound close for half a bar Then fall apart by yesterday I don’t need reverb to sound human I don’t need AI to bleed If your verse fall apart unplugged It weren’t bars — it was sheen Lyricism — not decoration Not algorithm affirmation If the bar don’t hit naked Then fuck the presentation Lyricism — thought compression Meaning layered, no suggestion I’m not anti-tech, I’m anti-bullshit Know the fucking difference I ain’t scared of tools I’m scared of people hidin’ behind ‘em That’s lyricism.
