[Verse 1] Scuffed-up Vans on the front row rail Name on the wristband, ink gone pale Late bus home, got a busted phone Still feel rich when the beat hits bone
Holes in my jeans and a stubborn grin Hand-me-down dreams with the tag still in Mom said “work,” world said “fold” I hit record, turned gravel to gold
[Chorus] I came from gravel, now it’s gold in my teeth Every setback just a drum under my feet They weighed me down, I made a crown from the weight I don’t break I don’t break I bend the bars, then I walk out the gate
[Verse 2] Lunch-line king with the last in tray Flip those jokes till they pay my way Laugh through the landlord, late again Still sound rich through a secondhand pen
Talk that talk but I walk it too Blisters on heel and a skyview crew No stage lights, just a bedroom glow But the whole block shakes when the speakers blow (hey!)
[Chorus] I came from gravel, now it’s gold in my teeth Every setback just a drum under my feet They weighed me down, I made a crown from the weight I don’t break I don’t break I bend the bars, then I walk out the gate
[Bridge] Yeah I grew up on the wrong side of maybe Hand-me-down hope, hand-brushed “you’re crazy” Still I stood tall in the hard rain, raging Turned my own scars into armor I’m waving
[Chorus] I came from gravel, now it’s gold in my teeth Every setback just a drum under my feet They weighed me down, I made a crown from the weight I don’t break I don’t break I bend the bars, then I walk out the gate
Style de musique
rap, Crunchy modern rock with hip‑hop drums and 808 weight under distorted bass; male vocals that flip between melodic grit and tight rhythmic phrasing. Guitars chug in the verses, then open into wide, octave riffs on the hook. Big gang vocals on the chorus, tom-heavy build into a half-time bridge before a final explosive repeat., rock, hip hop