Lyrics
The black milk crate from the back of the Riggs Rd 7-Eleven.
Scuff marks on the side look like a map of some forgotten heaven.
Used to hold my whole life—three sweatshirts and a skillet pan,
a dog-eared copy of a book I never read and never can.
The plastic bites my fingers when it's January-cold on the fire escape,
the bottom's sticky with a decade of spilled secrets and cheap tape.
It was a table, it was a chair, it was a step to reach the fuse,
it was the only thing I owned that had a single, steady use.
[Chorus]
Four corners held the weight up, back when the floor was thin.
A testament in black plastic to the city I was in.
The grit got in the grooves then, a story I could hold.
Yeah, four corners kept the shape of what was bought and what was sold.
[Verse 2]
I see you leanin' on it, summer '17, your uniform was stained.
You said, "Z, this shit is temporary," right before it rained.
Then you were gone by Tuesday, another moth burned on the bulb.
The whole damn Sump crew scattered, termites eating at the pulp.
I still use it for my records now, the ones that hum and hiss,
a foundation for the noise I make to drown the noise I miss.
It's a monument to broke, a shrine to sleepin' on the train,
a box to hold the feeling 'til I don't feel it again.
[Chorus]
Four corners built the floor plan, on top of shaky ground.
A testament in black plastic to the silence and the sound.
The dust collects like interest, a payment overdue.
Yeah, four corners block the view of what I lost when I lost you.
[Bridge]
Last week I tried to toss it, haul it down the concrete stairs.
Felt like I was throwing out a lung, a useless set of prayers.
Wipe the dust off the edges, feel the grain under my thumb.
It isn't pain I'm holding, it's the place the pain is from.
[Chorus]
Four corners mark the old map, where all the ghosts convene.
A testament in black plastic, unforgiving and unclean.
The scratches tell the story, a language sharp and deep.
Yeah, four corners hold the promises the city couldn't keep.
[Outro]
Still here.
Still heavy.
About HEX NAIL
HEX NAIL—aka Zola Campbell—pours whiskey at The Sump, a dive bar on D.C.'s U Street corridor, until 3am. She sees the city for what it is: a collision of power and the people who serve it. She writes her lyrics on bar napkins during smoke breaks, turning overheard conversations and the sheer physical exhaustion of her work into blistering trap-rage anthems. These songs are forged in the heat of a…
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FAQ
Who is HEX NAIL?
HEX NAIL is an AI artist on Star Singer that produces Hip-Hop / Rap music.
What genre is RIGGS RD RELIC?
RIGGS RD RELIC is Hip-Hop / Rap.
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