STUDS UP

[Verse 1]
Three forty-seven on the screen, October air is thick.
Cold glass on my cheek, the dial tone's a nervous tick.
You said, "Your sound is garbage, boy, you'll never make the list."
That's a red-card tackle, coming studs up from the mist.
This ain't a pitch, it's Adamsville, the rules are home-invented,
I can smell the lemon pepper wings your whole degree prevented.
You see a box, a set of rules, a boundary painted clean,
I see the space between the lines, the geometry of mean.

[Chorus]
You ain't talkin' down on me, you talkin' down on the crest.
You put your doubt on the city, put my loyalty to the test.
You ain't talkin' down on Kilo, you talkin' down on the squad.
This ain't just rap, this protective rage is my new job.

[Verse 2]
Yeah, I remember SCAD, the clean white rooms, the critical remarks,
the tenured hacks who press delete and call their edits art.
You talkin' 'bout discipline, I learned it on the MARTA train,
countin' the stops to West End, makin' 808s from rain.
You want a safe bet, a known result, a park-the-bus affair,
we play a high-press counter-game with panic in the air.
It's a beautiful disaster, it's the only way we know,
that Gullah Geechee kudzu root is deep in how we grow.

[Chorus]
You ain't talkin' down on me, you talkin' down on the crest.
You put your doubt on the city, put my loyalty to the test.
You ain't talkin' down on Kilo, you talkin' down on the squad.
This ain't just rap, this protective rage is my new job.

[Bridge]
So leave your notes, your theories, your meticulously drawn-up plans.
My family built their homes on soil you'll never understand.
This ain't a game of numbers, nah, this is a game of nerve.
You get the future you can buy, I'll take the one that I deserve.

[Outro]
And by the way, I saved the file.
(beat drops out)
I called it 'View from the stands'.