funk 🇧🇷

Title: Face of the Earth (Metaphoric)

Intro (spoken / low keys)
Ayo, Kilo Bizniz, Smoked Out Mafia
We move silent, move precise — watch the chessboard.
Let’s paint the picture.

Hook / Chorus
fuckimg with the bizniz will get ya fucking wig split,
so the sucker won't take off his helmet, (i bet it's hot)
somebody got shot faulty in the turf,
ninjas fade you like chalk off the sidewalk — off the face of this earth.
Ad-libs: “oh you kin,” “flak flak,” “booyika”

Verse 1 (16 bars)
Step in the room, pockets heavy like freight, I weigh plans,
City stitched on my back, I move with my hands on the lands,
They whisper loud online but quiet when we stand,
Act tough in text, but IRL they switch up the brand.
I stack like architecture, blueprint in my mind,
Cut ties like old tags when the weather turn unkind,
My circle food for the fam — you starving? You decline,
We ghost like winter smoke, leave memories behind.
No need for crude lines — I paint storms in a phrase,
Make you feel small like a footprint in haze,
We don't parade drama; we erase with malaise,
Respect the recipe — loyalty pays.
I move like a general; every step's rehearsed,
Turn your spotlight to dust, like old posters on a curb,
If you gamble with the Bizniz, you'll learn what’s deserved,
Not by a gun lesson, but by time’s quiet verb.

Hook / Chorus
fuckimg with the bizniz will get ya fucking wig split,
so the sucker won't take off his helmet, (i bet it's hot)
somebody got shot faulty in the turf,
ninjas fade you like chalk off the sidewalk — off the face of this earth.
Ad-libs: “oh you kin,” “say less”

Verse 2 (16 bars)
Back on the block where the neon don't blink, we measure weight,
Trust is currency, counterfeit off the ledger, check the slate,
They smile in the daylight but trade souls by night, rotate,
We keep our code like medals — polished, never fake.
I flow with the ledger, balance sheets of respect,
Cross the line? You get ghosted — like an old cassette, decked,
No headlines, no rallies, just silence that connects,
Disappearances ain’t trophies — it’s how the city corrects.
Money talk soft but it echoes like drum rolls,
Crew move like eclipses — blockin' out weak souls,
We bookend our moves with calm, not tolls,
You learn the lesson: cold winters freeze bold goals.
We take what we earn, flip the script, keep the nerve,
Turn your name into fog — natural reserve,
Not by shouting or blood, but by absence observed,
A whisper in the crowd where your echo got curved.

Hook / Chorus
fuckimg with the bizniz will get ya fucking wig split,
so the sucker won't take off his helmet, (i bet it's hot)
somebody got shot faulty in the turf,
ninjas fade you like chalk off the sidewalk — off the face of this earth.
Ad-libs: “hi-yah,” “booyika,” “yah yah”

Bridge (8 bars — tension build, melodic under)
No sirens, just stillness — that hush before rain,
We move like a season, rearrange the plain,
Keep the circle fortified — no room for the stain,
When the wind passes through, only legends remain.
(Spoken) Respect ain't optional — it’s the script and the verse,
We don't embellish endings, we let absence disperse,
Kilo write the margins where your name used to burst,
Metaphors the ink and silence the hearse.

Verse 3 (16 bars — closer)
Final chapter, slow burn, dusk flip to dawn, we observe,
You scribbled threats in margins — we edited the curve,
I built an empire on grit, not on nerve,
Now you just a footnote in the story I serve.
I ain't glorify pain — I translate the grind,
Take your loud bravado and fold it in time,
We collect quiet wins, compound like fine wine,
You end up faded, like highlights in grime.
I'm the architect, conductor, hush in the crowd,
I move like shadows at noon — confident, proud,
If you front on the Bizniz, you vanish from the loud,
Not by spectacle, but by rain that clears clouds.
So keep your distance, mind your tone and your worth,
Respect the movement or dissolve into earth,
We built this from ash, polished in hearth,
Tryin' with the Bizniz? — 



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