Threadbare Crown

[Verse 1]
Fourteen, the street's loom called, pulled the first tough thread,
These hands ain't built for games, just the weight I inherited instead.
Atlanta grime stuck deep, a pattern I couldn't unweave,
Had to cut my own cloth, before I had a chance to breathe.

[Chorus]
This fabric of my life, still tracing where the shadows fell,
Too young to know the cost, but too old to ever tell.
A crown of responsibilities, now threadbare, worn and tight,
Pulled too early, holding on to fading light.

[Verse 2]
Twenty-two, the city hummed my name, a new design,
Kente cloth of ambition, laid on a raw silk timeline.
Running things, fast lane swerving, every fiber interlocking,
But the hum of the djembe spoke of burdens, subtly mocking.
My open hands built empires, brick by quick-laid brick,
Never learned to just play, the game moved way too quick.

[Chorus]
This fabric of my life, still tracing where the shadows fell,
Too young to know the cost, but too old to ever tell.
A crown of responsibilities, now threadbare, worn and tight,
Pulled too early, holding on to fading light.

[Bridge]
Now 25, these fingers know each knot, each hidden strain,
The wisdom of the elders, bought with early-morning rain.
An outsider looking in, even on the tapestry I made,
Sacrifices stitched in silence, a heavy price prepaid.

[Outro]
Just a ghost of a child, in these calloused, working hands.