CHALLENGER'S RAP

• Step into the boardroom like I’m stepping onto a battlefield when I enter
• Polished marble floors gleaming like the barrel of a Beretta
• Under fluorescent lights, eyes following me, I see them glance at me
• Feeling pressure, some call it nerves, I call it gravity
• Came strapped like I always do, I don’t walk in without weaponry
• The deal on the table ain’t just business, it’s legacy
• Boutta make headlines in The Wall Street Journal, and send tremors
• Through the terminals coast to coast, this is my warfare, bitches
• The kind that spills blood and kills careers, I had climbed from an
• Area where power meant something else entirely
• Back when respect came with Glocks and being ready was a requirement
• Still carry steel, my moves landing like shots I’m firin’
• Playing high stakes, was warned that many people choke
• But my aim ain’t weak, success is taken through sweat and smoke
• And by learning, and knowing when to shoot someone in the head
• Or when to let the silence do all the shooting instead
• I sign, stroke of the pen, clean and final like my .40 caliber
• Make NASDAQ buzz, when it comes to maneuvering, I’m the master, bitch
• I stay loaded, power, purpose and pressure all chambered and ready
• Moving like a legend, I built this brick by brick, because I’m gritty
• Secondhand Glock named Eleanor, my name moving through the boroughs
• In marble halls, half fear, half faith, my head heavy from gold
• Enemies buried, they cracked under the same pressure I wear like cologne
• Silence falling when I enter a room, my guns aren’t always guns bro
• Sometimes they’re contracts, or eyes locked across a table
• Where a nod means war, success follows me, but so does danger
• Like Achilles, I’m untouchable, power pulsing through the building
• Signing away people’s futures while sipping whiskey
• Respect is earned in inches, and pressure is the part they don’t teach
• Sirens wailing like actual sirens, warming or welcoming, don’t matter really
• Rolex glinting against the low-lit room, the weight’s on me
• Not just on my wrist, but in the way the room waits for me to leave
• And the world waits for my next move, wondering what it’s gonna be
• Because when you hold power, everybody wanna see
• But power’s like that thick-ass voltage running through a downed line
• Everybody wants to touch it till it fuckin’ fries
• Their dumbass ambition straight into oblivion
• They scream for it, beg for the juice, but can’t handle it when it hits
• Ain’t it funny, they chase the success like it’s a fine piece of ass in
• A room full of simps, not realizing it takes more than thirst to have it
• You gotta bite, chew, and digest it, but they gaggin’
• On pressure, like weak lungs in a hurricane that’s boutta attack them
• Respect is a slippery motherfucker, everyone wants it handed
• To them on a silver tray like they’re owed whatever they’re lackin’
• Just for breathing, nah, you earn that shit in the trenches, when your back is
• Breaking and your name’s being dragged through dirt, and you don’t fold
• That’s where it’s born, it's forged in fire, but most of these bozos
• Melt before the heat even touches ‘em, and pressure is the real test
• That bitch don’t knock, it kicks the door down and sits on your chest
• Like sleep paralysis with a vengeance, it’s judging you bro
• That exposes the real ones, some turn into diamonds, but most don’t
• It's all fun and games 'til you're the one holding the live wire
• Sparking under everyone's expectations while they admire
• They forget the crown weighs like it’s forged from every eye watchin’
• Judging, waiting for you to trip, you wanted to be on top, bitch
• Congrats, welcome to the stratosphere, where the air's so damn thin
• You can’t breathe without gasping on your own ambition