Concrete Scriptures

City lights flicker through my battered windowpanes

Bits of sax in the air, blending with subway trains

My pen bleeds narratives, graffiti on brick walls

Echoes bounce off corners where ambition rarely stalls

A hundred block hustlers quoting poems for the street

Lyrical chessboards on every avenue we meet

Tap the MPC, memories loop in rhythm

Soulful cracks in vinyl, reminisce my system

This is concrete scripture, written in the haze

Storylines of hustlers lost beneath the maze

Boom bap in my veins, jazz in my breath

Scripting city verses till my syllables have nothing left

Bodega light glow, stained on my collar

Loose change dreams traded for respect not dollar

Kick snares crack where the hope barely shines

Raised on paradoxes and punchline designs

Flip the needle, let the horns improvise the pain

Surviving on the punchlines carved from rain

Tap the MPC, memories loop in rhythm

Soulful cracks in vinyl, reminisce my system

This is concrete scripture, written in the haze

Storylines of hustlers lost beneath the maze

Boom bap in my veins, jazz in my breath

Scripting city verses till my syllables have nothing left

High-rise shadows, bitter city prose

Cipher circles blazing in the wind that never slows

Every scar is a stanza, every block another page

We’re prodigies of struggle, poets fueled by rage

This is concrete scripture, written in the haze

Storylines of hustlers lost beneath the maze

Boom bap in my veins, jazz in my breath

Scripting city verses till my syllables have nothing leftFade out with the static, beats and dreams entwine

Midnight on Manhattan, still writing every line