[Intro]
(quiet crackle) shh—yah
Yeah. For the bored kings and queens who smile through the storm.
[Verse 1] (16 bars)
I pace the tiled nights, worn sneakers scraping the floor, (11)
Corner store neon hum, mint gum, open door, (11)
Hands in my pockets, quiet thunder under skin, (11)
Silent siren, violent vibin’, soft chaos I’m in, (12)
Slow breath, slow grin, the city hums like vinyl, (11)
Window fog, cigarette ember turned recital, (12)
I move like a secret, calm with a danger tag, (11)
Paperbacks, late trains, slow clap at every drag, (12)
This boredom breeds craft — I sharpen shapes from the gray, (12)
Aggression tucked in pockets, I wear it like a play, (12)
One sharp line, a memory that won’t dissolve, (10)
I leave the usual behind, then quietly evolve, (11)
No fireworks, just steady burn, ember on repeat, (12)
Got a pirate’s patience, ocean in my heartbeat, (12)
Memorable line: I skateboard silence down midnight lanes, (12)
I build my cathedral from small rebellions and refrains. (13)
[Pre-Chorus] (4 bars)
Whisper to the crowd, they echo back the hush, (10)
Hands up, slow clap — feel the velvet in the rush, (12)
Tension pulls the quiet like tide pulls the bay, (11)
One breath, then we let the chorus carve the way. (11)
[Chorus] (compact + chantable — repeatable)
Chill. Rage. (shh—yah) — repeat, feel the pulse engage, (9)
We breathe slow, then we break the cage, (9)
Chill. Rage. (shh—yah) — crowd call, stage to stage, (9)
Say it back: Chill. Rage. (call) — we set the page. (9)
[Verse 2] (16 bars)
Late-night bus stop, blue bench, my breath fogs the glass, (12)
I count the silhouettes, slow kingdom, no trespass, (12)
Pocket lint philosophies, mixtape of small crimes, (11)
I trade loud for depth — cartoon noise for crisp lines, (12)
A bar I keep: bored don’t mean broke, it means choose, (11)
I buy my own calm, pay rent to my stubborn muse, (11)
Micro-world vandal, I rearrange sunsets, (11)
Quietly aggressive — soft hands, sharp silhouettes, (12)
I speak in half-smiles, full verbs, and ellipses, (11)
One scene: neon cashier calls me by my last three letters, (13)
Punchline: I’m lethal with leisure, relaxed like a blade, (12)
I carve my own lane where most men just fade, (11)
Every stanza is a cigarette, I inhale patience deep, (13)
Exhale is a rebel choir that refuses sleep, (11)
Memorable line: I write maps on receipts, fold futures thin, (12)
My calm is not absence — it’s strategy wearing skin. (12)
[Pre-Chorus] (4 bars)
Tap the beat with your palm, feel the hush accumulate, (12)
We fold silence into rhythm, let the city oscillate, (13)
Hold the space for the drop with a smile, not a shout, (12)
Then call the crowd to answer when the chorus comes out. (12)
[Chorus] (x2) — call-and-response
Chill. Rage. (shh—yah) — repeat, feel the pulse engage, (9)
We breathe slow, then we break the cage, (9)
Chill. Rage. (shh—yah) — crowd call, stage to stage, (9)
Say it back: Chill. Rage. (call) — we set the page. (9)
[Bridge] (8 bars — drop or stripped)
(Strip beat, airy
