BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Codex
- I forge bars on the anvil —thoughts clash like steel
- Metaphors swing swords, every stanza can kill
- Fire in the breath, leave the mic scorched and sealed
- My rap game medieval —draw bridges and shields
- Built a castle from the scars, no fear in the gate
- Resurrected on the page when the ink starts to skate
- My rhythm carves spells in the paper’s domain
- Pen game toxic —tip bleeds Novocain
- Apocalypse scripts —I drop bombs with no name
- Smoke curls from the booth like a funeral flame
- I walk with the ghosts of the verses I’ve slain
- Every hook is a chain —feel the weight of the pain
- From the ash I arose, with the grit of the grave
- Now I blacksmith fate with the lyrics I lay
- My notebook’s a tomb —but I write to escape
- So I spit till the silence starts breaking away
- These bars ain't for fame —they were forged for the fight
- Ink turns to armor when I’m writing at night
- Each line a blade, in the glow of the pyre
- I sharpen my soul every time I get higher
- I’ve bled in these pages, I’ve healed in the rhymes
- I bend time —no limit to the climb
- God level grammar, I resurrect syntax
- My flow splits atoms, no need for a syntax
- I draft war scrolls, wrap scrolls in fire
- Scriptures from the pit, but I climb out higher
- The throne ain't gold, it's built from grief
- And each verse I drop is my soul’s relief
- I don't rap for applause —I rap to breathe
- And spit truth so sharp, it’ll make lies bleed
- I’ve seen days so dark they bled into night
- Wrote pain on the page just to feel something right
- Turned trauma to tempo, these wounds got rhythm
- Now every scar I spit becomes part of the system
- I encode storms in a stanza’s spin
- Make pain poetic —let the flood begin
- Never wrote for the charts or the playlist slot
- I write for the ones who the world forgot
- Pen drills through stone when the hope runs thin
- And I sculpt new worlds from the mess I’m in
- Not a king in chains —I’m a ghost uncaged
- Who burned down the book just to free the page
- Let the ink run red ‘til the silence screams
- This ain’t rap —it’s resurrection through dreams
- I don't rap for applause —I rap to breathe
- And spit truth so sharp, it’ll make lies bleed
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