Generic Hip Hop Artist - Blueprints & Brass Knuckles

Yo...
Let’s rewind real quick,
Before the brands, before the buzzwords,
Back when cipher sessions meant survival.
Raw tape decks and broken streetlamps...
This is where it really started.
Class is in.

When the mic-fiends came to earn the name
And to spit flames, some crashed
On pills and pride, tried to ride the fame
Before the stage lights shined
Now minds rise off inner planes, to spark the flame
From the ashes, we design
Yo, Mentor — cut that beat with precision lines

Frauds fold in live sets, I dissect with lines
Knock jokers off decks like they slept through time
I’m sharp like a crime scene — not chalk, but red
Like a needle to the nerve when the pain gets fed
You had a chance to drop jewels, but you bit the mold
Caught a bruised ego from playing roles too bold
I stack weight in bars, not plates in gyms
They flex likes, I press truths on a whim
Minimal effort, they sandals in snow
While I gamble verses where only gamblers go
You feel the pulse when I split the deck
It’s roundhouse syntax, snap your neck
My flows hit airwaves like rogue typhoons
I clock in dusk, clock out past noon
No filler — I ink with intent
Drop heavy lines that collapse cement
Thoughts rush like currents, unfiltered speed
Carried in clouds of loud and lifted seeds
Only drop fire when my focus align
Turn it up — whole squad on that frontline grind

When the mic-fiends came to earn the name
And to spit flames, some crashed
On pills and pride, tried to ride the fame
Before the stage lights shined
Now minds rise off inner planes, to spark the flame
From the ashes, we design
Yo, Mentor — cut that beat with precision lines

Mission's labeled mythical — still, I pursue
Swing pens like blades that slice right through
I’m the silence-breaker, the chest plate shatterer
Street professor with a mind like Excalibur
Their style’s faded — like thrift-store heat
While I burn beats through tin-can speakers
Never pull up to my set on the sneak
Your scheme short-circuits like wet concrete
What’s the reason? I'm lawless with cause
Judge and jury when I bang these bars
Jot verdicts with a pad so criminal
They can't trace it — the syntax subliminal
Slipped in solo, dipped with no sound
Low-key like sirens in underground towns
Yo — ride with me to the code-bound zone
Where the booth feels like a war-time drone
Narrow entry, wide exit of thought
Bars so dense, they vibrate in chalk
Curious minds get caught in the wave
Get marked by the mark that legends engrave

When the mic-fiends came to earn the name
And to spit flames, some crashed
On pills and pride, tried to ride the fame
Before the stage lights shined
Now minds rise off inner planes, to spark the flame
From the ashes, we design
Yo, Mentor — slice that track with the finish line