Chorus (call-and-response)

From the BX to the sky, we climbin' out the block — yeah!

Concrete to clouds, hear the city talk — loud, loud!

Left the stoop with a dream and a duffel full of hope,

Bronx-born, heart sworn, now we learn how to cope.

Verse 1

Mama on the stoop, lightin' candles for the rent,

sirens paint the night, every corner got a sentence.

Boom-bap on the boombox, breakbeats baptize the youth,

graffiti on the rail, every tag a truth.

I learned to cipher in the park where the elders spit wisdom,

kids playin’ double Dutch, we dodgin’ system schisms.

Two trains, three trains, subway maps like veins,

paper routes, corner deals, countin' losses, countin' gains.

Schoolbooks folded in my backpack with a ripped-up seam,

rhymebook for a passport, music was the dream.

A coach said “boy, you got a voice, don’t fold it to the cold,”

so I traded fear for mic checks and nights I sold my soul.

Chorus

From the BX to the sky, we climbin' out the block — yeah!

Concrete to clouds, hear the city talk — loud, loud!

Left the stoop with a dream and a duffel full of hope,

Bronx-born, heart sworn, now we learn how to cope.

Verse 2

First studio like a church, reverent to the echo,

engineer noddin’ slow, cigarette smoke, low tempo.

Freestyles like applications, every bar a resume,

open mic nights, face the crowd, watch the shadows sway.

Saved my checks, cut my fits, invested in a flight,

apartment with better light, windows off the fight.

Got a mentor with a clipboard, said “kid, grind with sense,”

scholarship to hustle, make the loudest move be tense.

Contracts and late nights, first paycheck felt heavy,

called home with commas, Mama cried, hands steady.

Now my passport's stamped, my future’s inked in gold,

but the BX taught me how to move when the nights get cold.

Bridge

Ain’t forget my block — I send love and I send bread,

built a studio in the basement where my cousin lay his head.

Promise on the stoop, promise on the church bell,

you rise for self but you climb so others can as well.

Concrete roots, rooftop truth — we grow up, not away,

the Bronx is in my cadence every time I say my name.

Chorus (lifted)

From the BX to the sky, we climbin' out the block — yeah!

Concrete to clouds, hear the city talk — loud, loud!

Left the stoop with a dream and a duffel full of hope,

Bronx-born, heart sworn, now we learn how to cope.

Verse 3

Departure day, duffel zipped, last look at the stoop light,

young dogs on the corner shout “one day” into the night.

I waved to the bodega, the lady sold me truth for free,

told me “go and shine, but come back where you’re from, please.”

Landed with new names, new stages, new applause,

but my rhyme still walks like it grew up with broken laws.

I built a bridge with beats, wired funds back to the block,

set up programs for the kids, freed ’em from the clock.

This ain’t a ghost story — it’s a ledger of return,

every dollar, every verse, is a lesson that I learned.

We leave so we can change things, not just run from the night,

Bronx in my blood, now my future got new light.

Outro (spoken over fading beat)

Concrete Exodus — we take the lessons, never the loss,

we carry stoop sermons to penthouse gloss.

If you from the BX, you know the soundtrack of the climb,

every siren’s a metronome, every hustle a rhyme.

From the block to the skyline, from scratch to success,

we rise for the ones still holdin’ on to the steps.