[Intro – Spoken, low & distant, reverb] Aggressive words shall lead and master, Instructors of actuality, force and factors. Some kings are dogmatic, some sit at peace— Some stay balanced so their legacy outlives defeat. Look out for the beast or be buried six feet deep. Ingrained principles when a dictator speaks. Men of honor and gorillas wear the same name; They pray to God but wage war over pain. Prophets murmur, governors stall and delay— Sacrifices of a warrior's life, a thug holiday. Assemblies meet under flicker of fluorescent light, Mossed fence shadows, a ticking gate at night. They look for reason to exist inside the Matrix— Where the system and streets blur with violent lies. Lawmakers swindle, culprits rewrite the code, I won't let the ones with power script my ode. [Chorus – Hook] What's driven? My journey, my campaign. What's driven? My energy, my high praise. Driven to examine, driven to excel— Who's the good guy? Only time will tell. What's driven? War, peace, and faith. What's driven? Dislike, venom, and hate. Driven to abolish, driven to kill the spell— What's a past life? The body of a prophet—only time will tell. [Verse 1 – Rap, tight cadence] Hypocrites preach peace but tuck knives in their sleeve, Scriptures remixed for profit—watch what they believe. Imposters feed fiction wrapped in doctrine and praise, Counterfeit philosophers play a carnival of phrase. Judges bang gavels, cops write orders in the dark, Militant memos signed with invisible marks. Fluorescent hum in the block, a cell with a ticking gate, I map the scars on the city, hear the sirens translate. Concrete sermons from men with polished gold names, They're legalizing the lies while we shoulder the flames. You know kings like David fell, and blood still wrote the crown— Defenders rise, then fold—by any means we hold this ground. [Chorus – Hook] What's driven? My journey, my campaign. What's driven? My energy, my high praise. Driven to examine, driven to excel— Who's the good guy? Only time will tell. What's driven? War, peace, and faith. What's driven? Dislike, venom, and hate. Driven to abolish, driven to kill the spell— What's a past life? The body of a prophet—only time will tell. [Verse 2 – Rap, harder edge, internal rhyme] Hypocrites flip codes for status, cast stones from glass thrones, They preach peace with iron fists, milked by courthouse phones. Clever with the cadence but their doctrine's counterfeit, They stitch theology from headlines, sell truth in split bits. Assemblies of the grade-A, glory in the glossary— They trade history for headlines and baptize hypocrisy. Moss on the fence, a shadowed porch where children don't play, Prison gates coughing silver in the cold of break of day. They legalize their crimes, sign warrants in the night— Watchmen turned merchants, sell justice for a smaller light. [Bridge – Spoken/Rapped, urgent] So what's driven? The hunger to rise or the hunger to reign? Is it faith or the fault line that lays claim to the—