[Intro]
(Spoken) City lights flicker, late-night hunger in my chest.
Ad-libs: Yeah! Uh! Let's go!
[Verse 1]
Corner stoop, fourth block, beatbox on a milk crate,
Neon drips on sneakers, I lace my fate with a hungry bass-rate.
Mentor said, "Write what you bleed," so I scribble scars on napkins,
Cassette dreams, busted speakers, midnight sessions, habit patterns.
Wordplay like a locksmith — I pick locks with a simile,
Punchlines land like thunder, leave crowds on their knees, literally.
Two a.m. in the studio, coffee cold, keep the grind long,
Bar for bar I harvest rhythm — turn the gutter into a song.
[Pre-Chorus 1]
From the stoop to the spotlight, I'm polishing my grit,
Every line a fingerprint, every beat I commit.
This hunger ain't polite — it's a furnace, not a flicker,
I stoke up every stanza till the flame gets thicker. (Yeah)
[Chorus]
I'mma eat these tracks, every beat's a feast,
Tell my story loud, can't tame the heat.
I take the melody, carve marrow from the beat,
Turn my nights to trophies — watch me feast, watch me eat.
Ad-libs: Ha! Uh! Come on!
[Verse 2]
Studio window fogged up from breath and late-night prayers,
Producer nods, tape whirls, we stitch truth into snares.
He said, "Keep the chorus raw, let the hooks do the work,"
So I plant flags on the rhythm, watch the pretenders lurk.
Paid dues in small shows — fifty chairs, two lights,
Gave half my rhymes to the pavement, picked the rest up off fights.
Now I flip city maps into sets, take coordinates of dreams,
GPS to glory — I'm rerouting all extremes.
[Pre-Chorus 2]
From corners to columns, the stakes got taller,
My hunger learned to hustle — now it eats the dollar.
Lines that used to whisper now hit like a verdict,
I sharpened every syllable, now consequences are metric. (Uh)
[Chorus]
I'mma eat these tracks, every beat's a feast,
Tell my story loud, can't tame the heat.
I take the melody, carve marrow from the beat,
Turn my nights to trophies — watch me feast, watch me eat.
Ad-libs: Yeah! Skrrt! Let's go!
[Bridge — Narrative Pivot]
Remember the night I stood outside a booked club, no pass,
Paper in my pocket said "Try again," a mentor's last-class.
I traded doubt for deadlines, cold nights for studio breath,
One mixtape, one small crowd — now echoes argue with death.
First paycheck bought my mama groceries, that cried-fist victory,
Paid rent with a rhyme, that receipts my memory.
This is proof in the ledger — sweat converted into sound,
What used to be a whisper is now shaking the ground.
[Breakdown / Vocal Tag]
(Short beat drop) — Ad-libs: Uh! Ha! (vocal tag: "On the Come Up")
Mic close, breath sharp — breathe in, let the silence break.
Monotone loop, then I climb: "Come on!" — let the choke chain shake.
[Final Chorus — Full Force]
I'mma eat these tracks, every beat's a feast,
Tell my story loud, can't tame the heat.
I take the melody, carve marrow from the beat,
Turn my nights to trophies — watch me feast, watch me eat.
Ad-libs: Yeah! Uh! Crowd: (woo!)
[Outro]
So here I站
