[Intro — Spoken] Redemption Road. From Maple & Third to kitchen mornings. This one’s for the nights I lost, and the mornings I chose. [Verse 1] Maple & Third, where my name learned how to bend, Cold corner deals, brown paper cash, no end. A compass scar on my thumb from when I stood my ground, Neon-less alleys, the echo of a city sound. Bottles clinked like small alarms in a sleeping car, Missed three birthdays, missed “I love you” from a passenger star. But six AM smells like pancake batter and a porch light, Blue rocket cartoon on the couch — their laughter cuts the night. [Pre-Chorus ] Three suns on the fridge, crayon flares taped tight, Tiny fingers tracing lines that say, “Dad, be alright.” No more satin lies, no more late-night fights, I trade the old streets for these morning rites. [Chorus — Hook] Redemption Road — I keep the light (light, light) Redemption Road — I keep the light (keep the light) Redemption Road — I keep the light (ooh) [Verse 2] Court date inked, a bracelet counting sober days, A mug with chipped rim from nights and better ways. No more quick calls at two, no more rolled-up cash, no more disguise, I button shirts, braid hair, say bedtime prayers, wipe sleepy eyes. There’s a scar on my jaw from a night that taught me pain, I tell the story slow — it rhymes with change. I learned to hum the theme, pause the fight, choose the track, I put my old contacts in a drawer, never looked back. [Pre-Chorus — Variation] Tiny feet in a line, three pairs by the door, The smell of syrup, a cartoon laugh — what I’m living for. No more blackout flights, no more courthouse nights, I trade the sirens for lullabies, the wrongs for rights. [Chorus — Hook] Redemption Road — I keep the light (light, light) Redemption Road — I keep the light (keep the light) Redemption Road — I keep the light (ooh) [Rap Breakdown — 16 Bars] 1) Two AM, phone buzz: “You in?” — dealer voice on repeat, 2) Envelope slid under the door like a promise dressed in sleet. 3) I thumbed the message, thumbed the numbers, thumbed through my shame, 4) Felt the old rhythm in my veins, same chorus, different name. 5) But there’s a beep in a ward — tiny lungs, paper white, 6) Nurse says “Hold him,” and the world compresses to a light. 7) I pictured syrup on his chin, a kazoo half-broken bright, 8) The dealer’s line sounded small beside my son’s small fight. 9) I tore the list — watch the ash curl like a midnight prayer, 10) Burned the numbers, burned the names, burned the easy dare. 11) Rehab bed, nine A.M., I learned how to breathe slow, 12) Sat on the porch, folded shirts, learned how to grow. 13) Judge bangs the gavel — parole stamped like a brand, 14) I wore the paper like armor, kept my children’s hands. 15) Washed a plate until it sang, folded shirts until they slept, 16) From felon nights to bedtime lights — I earned each promise kept. [Bridge — Temptation Scene] A text lit up: “Quick cash, same corner, come through,” An envelope in the car, familiar weight I knew