Pt 6.Mic END - x16x/InG.mp3

[00:00.000] 作词 : x16x/T BOY
[00:01.000] 作曲 : x16x
[00:02.000] 编曲 : x16x/InG
[00:15.632]This ain’t a performance, it’s an exhale.
[00:17.771]No rhyme for applause, just truth that bleeds in lowercase.
[00:20.852]If I disappear after this—let it be known... I wrote until the silence spoke back.
[00:35.601]I came into this world with a mic in my fist,
[00:38.656]No silver spoon—just bars I twist.
[00:41.295]Born to a skyline that never blinked,
[00:43.820]Raised on cassette decks and kitchen sinks.
[00:46.477]Mama cleaned houses, pops vanished like steam,
[00:49.151]I wrote dreams on napkins to replace the scream.
[00:51.843]Mic became my Bible, booth my church,
[00:54.595]I baptized pain in every verse.
[00:57.127]School skipped me, hope almost did too,
[00:59.749]But I learned more from Wu-Tang than from school.
[01:02.455]My therapist? A beat with good snare.
[01:05.112]My prayers? Echoed in midnight air.
[01:07.796]They said, “Man up,” I said, “I write soft.”
[01:10.620]They said, “Real men don’t cry,” I just scoffed.
[01:13.310]Because being real? It’s saying I’m cracked,
[01:15.880]And still showing up, no plan, no map.
[01:19.029]I wrote for the kids who feel too much,
[01:21.423]For the loners with hearts they never trust.
[01:23.815]For the girls with razors, boys who hide,
[01:26.527]For the ones who smile with wars inside.
[01:29.190]I wrote for the mirror that judged me hard,
[01:31.775]For the father I wanted in every bar.
[01:34.405]For lovers I lost, friends who ghosted,
[01:37.108]For the versions of me that never coped with—
[01:39.848]The noise. The world. The lies. The price.
[01:42.803]For every “I’m fine” that never felt right.
[01:45.135]This mic? It knew my ugliest truth,
[01:47.998]Knew me better than therapists do.
[01:50.335]So I ain’t here to flex, or chase charts,
[01:53.129]I’m here to leave pieces, like broken art.
[01:55.890]If I die tomorrow, let the verse remain,
[01:58.406]Like chalk outlines after acid rain.
[02:01.207]Remember me—not for the stage,
[02:04.041]But for the lines I bled on every page.
[02:06.458]Not the claps, or lights, or reels—
[02:09.049]But for the moment your chest said: “Damn, I feel.”
[02:11.814]I lost count of the songs I never dropped,
[02:14.429]Because truth ain’t tidy—it leaks, it rots.
[02:17.091]But every rhyme I did release
[02:19.630]Was a small revolt. A prayer. A piece.
[02:22.549]I don’t need Grammys. Don’t need plaques.
[02:27.030]Don’t need critics dissecting my cracks.
[02:28.476]All I want is for one lost soul
[02:30.542]To hear a line and feel whole.
[02:33.255]That’s legacy. That’s art. That’s war.
[02:36.125]That’s screaming at heaven through studio doors.
[02:38.580]So this one’s for me—just me. No mask.
[02:41.153]No alter ego. Just questions I ask.
[02:43.743]And maybe that’s all rap was meant to be—
[02:46.443]A long-ass letter from the void to me.
[02:55.338]I used to think I'd write forever,
[02:57.641]That rhyme would keep my soul together.
[03:00.135]But even tape reels must unwind,
[03:02.580]Even legends must leave the line.
[03:05.185]So here’s the beat. Here's the air.
[03:07.879]Here’s the silence you can’t repair.
[03:10.509]And here’s the truth, sharp like steel:
[03:13.265]I ain’t gone—I just got real.
[03:15.811]They asked, “What’s next?” I said, “Peace.”
[03:18.674]“Another project?” Nah—release.
[03:21.672]Maybe I’ll teach. Maybe I’ll grow.
[03:23.991]Or maybe I’ll just sit in the afterglow.
[03:26.675]Because sometimes, to finish the rhyme,
[03:29.194]You gotta walk off and give it time.
[03:31.954]So I’m leavin’ the booth, fader to black—
[03:34.648]No regrets, no chains, no track.
[03:37.489]Fade me slow, like dusk on vinyl,
[03:40.076]No final bar—just one more spiral.
[03:42.525]Life don’t rhyme, but music tried.
[03:45.244]I wrote six parts—now let me hide.
[03:48.060]This was my book of verses.
[03:50.276]My six psalms for a world that don’t listen.
[03:53.305]Now I vanish—like all true poets do.
[03:55.826]Not into silence… but into you.