(Beat: An epic, shifting instrumental that changes tempo and instrumentation with every section)

(Tempo: 90 BPM – Classic Boom-Bap)

Yeah. From the parks in the Bronx to global stages.

One culture, a million different pages.

We took a drumbeat and built an empire.

Let’s take a trip through the genres of fire.

(Soundscape: turnables, heavy snare drums, jazzy horns)

Before the millions, it was block parties, crates, and plugs

Two turntables, a mixer, and some basement love

Melle Mel, Run-D.M.C. styling the track

Sucker MCs step back, we bringing it back

Then the nineties hit, the golden era took the throne

Boom-bap production, storytelling in the zone

The East Coast grit, Nas painting pictures in the dark

The Wu-Tang killer bees leaving an eternal mark.

Drop the beat down, let the lowrider bounce

We hitting California where the hip-hop counts

Dr. Dre laid the blueprint, synth lines so high

Nate Dogg singing while the palm trees pass by

It’s G-Funk, laid back, gangsta rap in the sun

Snoop Doggy Dogg and PAC, the battle had begun.

(Tempo shifts to 75 BPM – Deep 808 bass, rapid hi-hats)

Travel down the map to the Atlanta dirt

OutKast and Goodie Mob showing how the words hurt

Then Lil Jon brought the noise, energy off the wall

Crunk music in the club, shouting through the hall

Get buck, get wild, elbows in the air

The South found a voice and they shook it everywhere.

Then the kitchen counter turned into a studio floor

Trap music entered through the trap house door

T.I., Jeezy, Gucci Mane setting the mood

Rattling hi-hats, triplet flows, dark and rude

Now it rules the pop charts, every radio wave

From the underground corners to the money they save.

(Tempo accelerates to 130 BPM – Industrial, glitchy beats)

Accelerate the engine, let the tongue get loose

Twista and Tech N9ne drinking high-octane juice

Sub-atomic particles, I’m spitting them quick

Articulating the bars, a mechanical trick

If you can't keep up with the syllables I drop

Then your brain is gonna freeze and your heart is gonna stop

Slow it back down for the backpack crew

Mos Def, Common, Talib Kweli showing what's true

Rhymesayers, Def Jux, indie labels on the rise

No radio budget, just truth in their eyes

Conscious rap fights the system, breaks down the wall

While abstract lyricists make sense of it all.

(Soundscape: Distorted bass, video game synths, autotune)

Nirvana met 808s, guitars started to cry

Soundcloud generation watching teenage years go by

Juice WRLD, Lil Peep, heavy hearts on the sleeve

Xanax stains, broken pain, learning how to grieve

Autotune bleeding with a punk rock soul

Spitting melody and sadness just to feel whole.

PluggnB & RageGlitch the matrix out, Playboi Carti on the mic

Rage beats piercing through the night like a spike

Yeat spinning words like an alien tongue

Synth lines screaming where the sirens are rung

PluggnB chords rolling smooth in the back

TikTok trends driving millions to the track.

(Tempo shifts to 140 BPM – Syncopated UK garage beats, sliding bass)

Step across the pond to the London streets

Grime music firing over 140 beats

Wiley and Dizzee, Skepta wearing the tracksuit black

Now the Drill scene takes over, sliding bass on the track

Dark cinematic strings, balaclavas in the cold

A global street diary that’s waiting to be told.

(simple, universal beat with calm 808 and very dark ambience that builds up steadily)

I look at this map of the genres I’ve drawn

And I wonder where my own identity’s gone

Am I building a castle, or digging a ditch?

Trying to fit my soul in a market-made niche.

I look at the playlists, the metrics, the views

The algorithm telling me which flow to use

"Make it shorter," they say, "put a hook at the start"

But the status quo is a cage for the art.

I tried to write trap just to ride on the wave

But copying trends makes an artist a slave

I tried to go conscious, got lost in my head

Worrying over what the critics had said

Every time I look up at the industry standard

I feel like my purpose has been totally slandered

Trying to meet expectations I didn't create

Knocking on a stranger's locked-up gate.