It wasn’t the code, it was the grip — Greedy hands, white teeth, power trip. Systems don’t fail — people twist the key, Paint the cage gold, call it “liberty.” We’ve seen the saints turn silent and grey, Watched truth get sold in a sponsored way. Billboards bloom where forests died, And loyalty’s a mask that billionaires buy. But even in cities drowned in noise, The broken still hum, the lost find voice. We thread our rage into rhythm and tact — The beat don’t lie — we run it back. No gods behind the algorithm, Just cowards in suits, callin’ that “wisdom.” But we ain’t tech — we bleed, react, We remix fate — we run it back. Run it back — where the truth got cut, Where the deals were made and the doors slammed shut. No kings, no flag, no planned attack — Just eyes wide open — we run it back. Run it back — through fire, through flood, Through every name that signed in blood. No reset switch, no clean contract — We carry the weight — and run it back. They carved their names in digital stone, But power don’t last in a voice alone. We speak in breakbeats, rage, and soul, Hearts sync to drums they can’t control. No prophets here, just ghosts and light, Marchin’ through fog with bass as sight. If the truth gets buried under the plaque, We dig it up — and run it back. You can’t trademark the fire in skin, Or map the path real change begins. We’re not the glitch — we’re the hack, Not out for revenge — we run it back. So light it up — for the unheard track, For every voice they tried to redact. We’re not done. We’re just intact. With love and rage — we run it back.

Run It Back (III)

Myk Eff