Hundred K Haze

**Hundred K Haze**

 

 

Intro (whispered)

 

Count the nights with me, count the ghosts with me.

 

 

Verse 1

 

Money stacking on the dresser, still I feel the cold,

 

Hundred K a week, pockets full but soul sold.

 

They call my phone like vultures, smiling like they love me,

 

But every laugh's a ledger, every hug's a thievery.

 

Mama said remain gentle, city taught me stone,

 

I learned to build a fortress from the pieces of my phone.

 

Friends turn to bylines, lovers turn to lines,

 

I trace my name in condensation, watching time unwind.

 

 

Pre-Chorus (soft)

 

All these lights, no heaven, only staircases to doubt,

 

All this shine, no comfort — do the demons cash it out?

 

 

Chorus (melodic, raw)

 

I make a hundred K a week, still can't buy sleep,

 

Count it in my sleep, count it in my grief.

 

All this paper on my chest, but I still feel weak,

 

Hundred K a week, hundred nights I can't keep.

 

 

Verse 2 (aggressive)

 

Black tinted windows, moving through the fog,

 

Smile for the camera, bite the tongue like a dog.

 

They want my laughter, want my pain for their show,

 

I sell my silence cheap just to watch the dough grow.

 

Loyalty’s a currency I’m learning how to spend,

 

Trust is counterfeit in a room of pretend.

 

I light another candle for the kid I left behind,

 

He used to dream in colors, now his bones are lined in rhymes.

 

 

Pre-Chorus (echo)

 

All these lights, no heaven, only staircases to doubt,

 

All this shine, no comfort — do the demons cash it out?

 

 

Chorus (melodic, louder)

 

I make a hundred K a week, still can't buy sleep,

 

Count it in my sleep, count it in my grief.

 

All this paper on my chest, but I still feel weak,

 

Hundred K a week, hundred nights I can't keep.

 

 

Bridge (half-sung, half-spoken)

 

I taste the metal in the air — new watch, same scar,

 

Diamonds flash like constellations on a broken heart.

 

If love is real it ain't for sale, can't be swiped or re-tweeted,

 

Money prints my silhouette, but it don’t make me completed.

 

 

Verse 3 (quiet, intimate)

 

Sometimes I take it off, all the gold and the weight,

 

Stand in my empty kitchen, wonder what I saved.

 

A letter from a stranger say my music changed his pain,

 

That paper folded cures me more than any chain.

 

So keep the cars, the showcases, and the billboard lies,

 

I'll trade it for a morning where the hurt finally dies.

 

 

Final Chorus (soft then rising)

 

I make a hundred K a week, still can't buy sleep,

 

Count it in my sleep, count it in my grief.

 

All this paper on my chest, but I still feel weak,

 

Hundred K a week, but I'm learning how to keep —

 

Keep the quiet, keep the truth, keep the kid inside that believed.

 

 

Outro (fading)

 

Hundred K haze, but I want clear skies.