[Intro]
Yo, check the mic, one two... This ain't no mixtape hustle, baby. This is the official declaration. From the archives of the future... You now rockin' with the young god. Eight-seven-born... The kid, $M.A.R.C."
[Verse]
Yo, 87' born, December first, cold night
Got a fire in my soul, and a pen held tight
See, sixteen years later, the mission's clear
To bridge the gap between legends and the fear
Of being next—no, I'm now, check the frequency
I ain't just rhymin', I'm definin' the decency
Of thе microphone, yeah, I came from thе stone
Where the greats built monuments, and left me the throne
Used to listen to Illmatic on my CD player
Now I'm sittin' here, lookin' at the whole game, sayin' a prayer
But not for luck, nah, this is all earned
Every lesson that I lived, every bridge that I burned
They said hip-hop died, well, tonight is the resurrection
A sixteen-year-old voice, armed with pure introspection
You wanted the story? The start? The Genesis?
(The beat briefly cuts out, leaving only a faint vinyl hiss)
...Welcome to The 16th Bar
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
