Intro
(Deep breath, low hum under beat)
FLAMMABRAINN'S STRUGGLE — blade of light in the gutter.
Ad-libs: (yeah) (uh) (hold up)
Verse 1
Ash-stained notebook, corner booth at 2 AM,
Mama's cast-iron pan, smell of grease and a plan.
Scuffed Timberlands tap rhythm on cracked tiles,
Streetlamp flicker maps out the lines of my trials.
I kept a mixtape under the mattress, tape hiss like proof,
Counted rent on a paper plate, prayers under the roof.
Late call from an old friend sayin' give up the ghost—
I laughed, flipped the page, every loss turned to notes.
Internal rhyme, heartbeat time: step, step, restart,
FLAMMABRAINN'S STRUGGLE stitched like a map on my heart.
Chorus (1/5)
Flammabrainn struggle — I hold the flame (I hold it)
Ash to armor — I carve my name (I carve it)
Hook-tag (call & response):
Leader: "Flammabrainn struggle —"
Crew: "—I hold the flame!"
Ad-libs: (keep it lit) (whoo)
Verse 2
Memory: half-lit diner, black coffee, napkin scrawl,
A rhyme about a red bike, broke chain, summer fall.
The alley knows my echo, the stoop knows my doubt,
But the sink-full of plates keeps my hands washing out.
I stash receipts next to rhymes, tiny trophies on display,
A chipped mug with chipped dreams, still I write a new way.
Assey on the corner, nod slow, respect the grind,
Chest cold, voice low — I speak in the language of time.
Syncopated syllables snap like a ratchet on a crate,
Every image is a mirror — look close, see the weight.
Chorus (2/5)
Flammabrainn struggle — I hold the flame (hold it)
Ash to armor — I carve my name (carve it)
Hook-tag (call & response):
Leader: "Flammabrainn struggle —"
Crew: "—I hold the flame!"
Ad-libs: (yeah) (light it)
Bridge / Production Cue
(Beat strips down — bass hum, single piano stab)
Vocal ad-lib bed: (mmm, mm)
Short verse spoken: "Kitchen light buzz, I count the cracks in the ceiling — each one a line I keep stealing. A shoebox of bills, a shoebox of beats; I trade the sting for the heat."
Verse 3
Concrete image: the cracked mirror above the stair,
Scrawl: "remember where you started" in the dust-streaked glare.
I keep the bridge of a song like a secret pocket knife,
Pull it when the cold wind comes, use it to stitch my life.
Pressure in the jaw, pressure in the pan, pressure in the pen,
But pressure makes the seams tight and sharper than when.
I speak to the streetlamp like it's an old, honest friend,
Tell it where I'm headed and where I've been again.
Internal slant: burn/earn, spark/mark, ash/cache — syncopate the line,
FLAMMABRAINN'S STRUGGLE — small town flashes, big city signs.
Chorus (3/5)
Flammabrainn struggle — I hold the flame (I hold it)
Ash to armor — I carve my name (I carve it)
Hook-tag (call & response):
Leader: "Flammabrainn struggle —"
Crew: "—I hold the flame!"
Ad-libs: (turn it up) (let it breathe)
Pre-Break
(short vocal break — half-beat silence)
Whispered: "Remember the diner, the mixtape, the scuffed shoes?"
Pause — breathe — then snap back in with a percussion hit.
Ad-libs: (yo) (feel)
