Lyrics

NTRO (spoken, calm but venomous):

you plagiarized the pulse,
but couldn’t carry the cadence.
you rapped my scripture…
without the scars that wrote it.
now the index is on fire.
and the ashes spell my name.

you plagiarized the pulse,
but couldn’t carry the cadence.
you rapped my scripture…
without the scars that wrote it.
now the index is on fire.
and the ashes spell my name.

dug up an old cut—heard my soul in your sound,
same schemes, same swing, same break in the round.
you wore my skin like a costume of bars,
but you stuttered on pain—I bled fluent in scars.

called it your freestyle? that was my thesis draft,
a stolen page dressed in your fabricated craft.
while you was chasing applause and branded lies,
i was locked in a cell with verses that don’t die.

your cadence? counterfeit. your pen? pre-owned.
you a cover of a cover—I’m carved in stone.
this ain’t beef—this is audit, this is scripture correction,
this the mirror whisperin’, “he know he flexin’ deception.”

i built a style you couldn’t decode,
you mimicked my tone but missed the load.
my lines come laced with a sentence behind ‘em,
yours ring hollow like you free-styled asylum.

i don’t need revenge—I am the revision,
your catalog cracked, my bars got vision.
your hook had flash, my verse got weight,
i press trauma into gold while you decorate fate.

so next time you rap with your borrowed conviction,
remember—legacy ain’t built from fiction.
i ain’t ask for the smoke, i authored the flame,
now ashes in the index spell out my name.

they ain’t just stole the words.
they stole the war behind ’em.
dressed my wounds in their cadence…
but forgot to carry the weight.

there’s no need to shout.
i left my fingerprints in every stanza.
truth don’t rush.
it rots the lie from the inside.

so when your name fades…
mine will be what they whisper
in the silence after the song.

and when they flip back to the credits…
they’ll find ashes in the index.

spelled like a curse.
etched like a legacy.
signed, Thesis.