Circuit Syndicate Anthem

Lyrics

Intro Back in high school at Martin Luther King, there was the good and the bad. I was a good student, but also the class clown — always joking around, even about how big our science teacher was, saying if he ever fell, the whole room would shake like an earthquake… Verse 1 One day, a football coach spotted me and asked, “You Mexican or what?” “Nah, I’m Puerto Rican and Dominican, just trying to stay alive.” He laughed, said, “See me after school — I want to test your kick.” ROTC gave me stripes for leadership, now I’m thinking this might fit. “Would I get a chance to shoot too?” I joked. He grinned, “We’ve got a range, more than you know.” Verse 2 After school, I laced up, kicked from every mark on the field. Coach said I was gifted, scholarships? Maybe real. Summer came — run, sweat, eat, repeat — till I puked. Everyone pushed to breaking; we learned to push through. “You wrestle?” coach asked mid‑checkup; I said no. He smiled like he saw something I didn’t yet know. Hook Only Latino in the hallway, flags on my spine, Puerto Rican, Dominican, just trying to shine. From class clown jokes to the field under lights, Turned pain into training, turned days into nights. Pencil on the table, beat under my voice, In a world full of noise, I was making my choice. From the laughs to the lessons, from the bruises to the scars, I was aiming past the ceiling, trying to kick through the stars. Verse Summer blurred — sunrise, wet grass, and locker room laughs. Every sprint was pain turned prayer, chasing what I didn’t have. I wasn’t just the class clown anymore, I was discipline, hustle, sweat on the floor. For once, it wasn’t about surviving the day — it was about becoming the man I hoped to stay. Only Latino in the school, felt like eyes on my back, Two flags on my shoulders — pride that never cracked. On the field, my kick spoke clear, At lunch, my flow filled the cafeteria air. Pencil drums, table bass, rhythm and life collide — For a moment, the music erased every divide. Hook Back in Martin Luther King, I was more than a joke, From the ROTC ranks to the raps that I spoke. Only Latino in the crowd, but my spirit was loud, Head of Science with a mic, making teachers proud. From the field to the fights, from the pain to the pen, Learning when to walk away and when to stand up again. Yeah, the boy they thought would never be much at all, Became the one they still remember when they walk those halls. Outro The same jokes turned to questions, curiosity blooming. Science class, no more clowning, just pursuing. Award in hand, shaking the teacher’s palm — full circle moment, quiet and calm. But memories of fights still burned; learned in hindsight, the real win ain’t a punch — it’s picking peace that night. Back in Martin Luther King, I walked out transformed — Latino, leader, rapper, reform. Learned real strength isn’t how hard you hit, It’s how you live the story you write with your wit. [Angel singing] [Electric guitar]