"SCRAPS" is a powerful conscious rap track that uses the metaphor of arriving at a buffet to find only crumbs and scraps to expose how modern systems promise abundance while delivering scarcity to working people. The song weaves together personal struggle (writing raps between jobs, questioning self-worth), political commentary (15-minute cities, surveillance), and spiritual resistance (rejecting false messiahs and manufactured salvation) into a cohesive critique of how economic, political, and religious authorities work together to keep people desperate and dependent. Starting with the challenging question "Why y'all expect the next breakthrough to sound like anything you already heard?", the track builds through vivid imagery of eating ashes while others feast, creating art from society's leftovers, and ultimately transforms from complaint into prophecy—positioning the artist as someone who channels the voices of the silenced while refusing to sell out or conform to expectations, ending with the rallying cry to "breathe fire" and awaken souls despite systemic oppression.

Scraps[Explicit]

prod. yxngkenay
call me , wassup kiley

lyrics: 
(Sounds like such a fucking vibe)
(Yea, yea)
(Wha?)
(Ah)
(Yeah)
(Ah)
(Yea, yea)

I could use a phone line
Call me when I'm dead or sum'
I don’t keep it on the line
Cuz this hoe might get set off soon

Off these 1’s, feel better soon
Booted up, I'm better soon
Hoe you not the only one that make me feel lightheaded, Ou

I just checked out, lowered the flight, balencis cross the border soon
I just fucked up, ran the light, and blew all four in Florence, Ou
Sent my partners to you like, don’t get hit with a Deja vu
Set up for that, who you like?
Don’t get hit with this blick, or two

You
Wrote this song for you
What is all for you?, Ou ou
For you, Ou ou

Call me, wassup Kiley
Oh you think so highly?
With your friends, you all have fun
Don’t you think I’m on my own?
Rub the pill, I’m poppin
Feeling like I’m lost and-
Oh

(Feeling like I’m lost and)

You
Wrote this all for you
What is all for you?, Ou ou
For you, Ou ou

I could use a phone line
Call me when I'm dead or sum'
I don’t keep it on the line
Cuz this hoe might get set off soon

Off these 1’s, feel better soon
Booted up, I'm better soon
Hoe you not the only one that make me feel lightheaded, (Ou)

I just checked out, lowered the flight, balencis cross the border soon
I just fucked up ran the light, and blew all four in Florence (Ou)
Sent my partners to you like, don’t get hit with a Deja vu
Set up for that, who you like?
Don’t get hit with this blick, or two

kiley

Lyrics:

[Intro]
(PMO Music)
Yeah—uh (Let’s go)
Old soul, new goals, we align (woo)
Catch the bassline slide with the gold in my mind—yeah

[Verse 1]
I’m talkin’ leather seats and street parables (uh)
Vinyl crackle, my stories sound tangible (yeah)
OG lingo, my aura mechanical
Blueprints folded neat—moves mathematical (skrrt)
Talk about balance, I learned it from the drought (yeah)
When you runnin’ outta faith, gotta budget what you count (wooh)
Seen fame turn friends into quiet doubt
But I never let the echo tell me what I’m about (nah)
Cuban links on a poetry night (uh)
I might toast with the ghosts who taught me to write (cheers)
Talk slick, lace quotes like satin and spite
Keep the flow tight as grip on a pen in the fight (pow)

[Pre-Chorus]
(Yeah)—now we up, lights flashin’ like the city breathin’ (breathe)
I’m the reason melodies feel like secret meetings (shh)
Diamonds dancin’ slow-mo, but my pain speedin’ (woo)
Heart bleedin’, still gleamin’, this the new season (let’s ride)

[Chorus]
I’m in my lane, can’t fold no more (no way)
Mix that soul with the trap, let it overflow (yeah)
From the vinyl crackle to the 808’s blow (blow)
This that new-age sermon, hallelujah with the glow (glow)
Say (wooh)—I been grindin’ with no disguise (no disguise)
Say (yeah)—tryna heal what I idolize (uh)
From the pain to the profit, we modernize (modernize)
Trap hymn, I baptize the lows, then rise (rise up)

[Verse 2]
Silk words, steel nerves, that’s my dialect (uh-huh)
Ain’t no luck, just grace that the sky reflect (woo)
Every scar’s like art that the world neglect (yeah)
But I turn 'em to design when I interject (pow)
Dice games turnin’ wisdom to anecdotes (roll it)
I been blendin’ Basquiat thoughts with the Grammy notes (yeah)
Street choir singin’ prayers through a cloud of smoke
Hood gospel, the scripture’s in every quote (amen)
See, I studied the legends, applied the modern tone
Polished every cadence like I’m cuttin’ stone (bling)
Talkin’ real respect, not what’s shown on the phone
I built this aura with pain and a metronome (let’s go)

[Pre-Chorus]
(Yeah) Switch lanes, got the vibe in rotation (rotation)
Grew from a spark to a whole foundation (woo)
Now the drums hit harder than temptation (yeah)
I’m the bridge from the past to the new formation (pow)

[Chorus]
I’m in my lane, can’t fold no more (no way)
Mix that soul with the trap, let it overflow (overflow)
From the vinyl crackle to the 808’s blow (blow)
This that new-age sermon, hallelujah with the glow (hallelujah)
Say (wooh)—I been grindin’ with no disguise (yeah)
Say (yeah)—tryna heal what I idolize (uh)
From the pain to the profit, we modernize (modernize)
Trap hymn, I baptize the lows, then rise (rise up)

[Bridge]
(Yeah) Pour a little prayer in the styrofoam (uh)
Mix it with ambition, watch it hit my dome (pow)
Lost love turned lessons, now I’m in that zone (yeah)
When the world too loud, I just hum my own tone (mmm)

[Verse 3]
I’m what happens when time meets intention (uh)
Golden in my grind, that’s divine intervention (yeah)
You can’t mimic hunger, it’s a real dimension
They see peace, I see pressure—different comprehension (wooh)
I talk slick like an uncle at the dice game (yeah)
Wordplay razor sharp, cuttin’ through the bright flame (pow)
Tory in the hook, but I write pain (uh)
Old school mind, in a new lane—(say my name)

[Pre-Chorus]
Now we up, lights flashin’ like the city breathin’ (breathe)
I’m the reason melodies feel like secret meetings (uh)
Diamonds dancin’ slow-mo, but my pain speedin’ (yeah)
Heart bleedin’, still gleamin’, this the new season (let’s ride)

[Chorus]
...

[Outro]
(PMO Music)
Yeah—blend the old with the gold (uh)
Trap hymn, sermon flow, I was told—(woo)
“Keep your soul where the bass can’t fold.”
Yeah… (fade out slow)

Vinyl Crackle [Prod. PMO Music]

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