[Verse 1]
2 AM, cold coffee, bills stacked like a confession,
Corner stoop sermons, mama said, "Count your blessings, not your tension."
White lights flicker on the block where dreams learn to breathe,
Late-night hustle, bus stop hopes, got my future on a subway sleeve.
Lost nights, boss lights, paying dues under frost lights,
Mailbox full of thin hopes, one stamp away from spotlight.
I scribble lines on receipts, flip defeat into a necklace,
No silver spoon—just silver linings stitched into the setlist.
[Chorus — Lift I]
Rise up strong, turn these ashes into my town,
Light the dark like city sparks, won’t let my pulse drown,
Through the storms I mapped my scars, they turned into routes,
Now I’m moving mountains, every setback's just a reroute.
[Verse 2]
I learned to count rhythm in the clack of worn-out shoes,
Rhymes like receipts—every line proves the dues I choose.
Pavement classrooms, teachers spoke in sirens and stop signs,
Graduated from the block with diploma made of headlines.
Internal rhymes, internal fights, I stitch them into armor,
Multisyllable missiles—my words farm karma.
From parking tickets to passports, I upgraded my flight plan,
Turned cold nights into gold lines; hustle's my right-hand.
[Pre-Chorus]
Got a ledger full of losses and a ledger full of wins,
Every scar a shorthand for the places I've been.
I keep my cadence tight—nine to twelve on the lines,
Punchlines like bright signs, guiding me through back fines.
[Chorus — Lift II]
Rise up strong, light the dark like city lights,
Kept my pulse loud, flipped my losses into heights,
Through the storms I learned to read the constellations,
Now I’m cartographing change, rewriting expectations.
[Bridge — Breakdown]
(Beat drops to sparse piano, 808 hum, snare snaps thin)
Listen—quiet now, hear the blueprint of my breathing,
Every echo is a ledger, every pause another meaning.
I used to barter hope for sleep, now I sell verses for peace,
From the ashes I compose avenues where pain finds release.
[Verse 3 — Rap-over-sparse-beat]
I’m the midnight mechanic, tuning dreams in a busted garage,
Wrenches of will, engine of willpower—call it mirage or montage.
Boss moves in flip-flops, still climb skyscrapers from stoops,
Flip the script, flip the block, teach the city new loops.
Got a black book of lessons, every loss's a lyric,
Stackin’ wins in the margins, calculator can’t mimic.
Punchlines like paychecks—direct deposit to soul,
I hustle in territory where the heart writes the goal.
[Chorus — Lift III (Final)]
Rise up strong, I lit the dark and built my town,
Kept my pulse loud, now my echoes hold the crown,
Through the storms I mapped my scars — they made the route,
Now I'm moving mountains, owning every block and truth.
[Outro]
This is my avenue, paved with words and weight,
Vibrant and unforgettable—watch me open every gate.
From frost lights to boss lights, from late nights to flight—
I rise up strong, I turn ashes into avenues of light.
