Bank Drop (feat. iluvbani, StoPlayinn)

Die with it

Livin To Fast

March Madness Ft. BabyBum

Game Changers

Don’t Blink

StepBack

Old Days

ADDICTED

SMOKIN’

There were rules before the rulers,
and a sky that bowed to none.
There were prayers that rose, lanterns,
through the fractures of the sun.
But the counting of the candles
made the smallest flame obey—
Now I speak in buried corners,
just to keep my soul awake.

There are temples forged of searchlights,
where the glare replaces grace.
In the cities of the new age,
truth is locked behind a face.
If you fold your hands in silence,
you inherit secret marks—
So a tattered, haunted faith
travels down my crooked spine.

There are hours when spirit falters,
read as hunger, read as threat.
Older stories turn to shadow
like a grief we can’t forget.
In these ages hearts grow quiet,
tamed by comfort, stripped of flame—
Yet a fragment of a psalm
keeps its vigil in my name.

There is listening for the spirit
in the pulse I cannot hide.
There is study in my breathing
like they read an ancient tide.
And the sight of one who kneels
shakes the ranks of steel in line—
For a whisper cracks the power
when the walls begin to fall.

I’m the last unbroken whisper
in a world that sells its breath,
Where obedience wears a kindness
and the kindness smells of death.
So I walk the neon wasteland
with a scripture in my blood—
Just a ragged, bone-worn pilgrim
dragging embers through the mud.

If you meet me in the ruins
where the city sheds its fear—
Ask me why I keep believing
where belief is rare and feared.

I won’t sermon, I won’t tremble;
I will speak it low and clear:
Are you driven by tomorrow,
or the hand that brought you here?

The Last Pilgrim

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Old Days

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