(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.