Lyrics

(Verse 1) Yo — born in Persia, but the soul’s Armenian, Bloodline ancient, pain carved like obsidian. Sevada the name, yeah, say it with weight, Descendant of kings, but he’s wrestlin’ fate. Tehran streets taught him truth with a fist, Prayed in whispers, survived in mist. Eyes of the tiger, fire in his chest, He ain’t East, he ain’t West — he’s a war in a vest. No passport can capture the lands he’s from, Where churches stand like fists and zurnas drum. Languages clash but his silence speaks, In the house of the brave, he’s the rarest streak. ⸻ (Hook) Sevada! Born from ash, rose through fire, No flag can cage that empire. Persian soul, but his roots run red, Ararat whispers every word he said. Sevada! Ain’t no mold that fits, Sharp like the truth when the silence splits. He don’t bow, nah, he rewrites the script, This ain’t just a name — it’s a manuscript. ⸻ (Verse 2) He grew up watchin’ bombs fall like snow, Kept a dagger in his rhyme, voice steady like flow. Told ‘em, “I’m not a border you can draw with pen, I’m the ink that bleeds through every ‘never again.’” They ask, “Are you Persian? Armenian?” He says, “I’m the ghost of what your history’s been.” He got grandma’s scars and a father’s rage, Turned pain into poetry on every page. Can’t erase him, can’t place him, Every system that tried just made him more dangerous. No safe box, he’s an earthquake breathin’, Truth in his chest and his tongue’s still bleeding. ⸻ (Hook) Sevada! Born from ash, rose through fire, No flag can cage that empire. Persian soul, but his roots run red, Ararat whispers every word he said. Sevada! Ain’t no mold that fits, Sharp like the truth when the silence splits. He don’t bow, nah, he rewrites the script, This ain’t just a name — it’s a manuscript. ⸻ (Outro – Spoken Word Flow) So when they ask where he’s from, don’t mention maps, Say he’s from between — where time collapses. A name from the desert, a soul from the peak, Sevada — the voice that history seeks.