VISION

A rhyme that hits, the tape deck sizzle. Bassline thumps, sharper than a chisel. Static in the background, raw, official. Memphis nights, thicker than a mistle. Back to the tape where the legends reside. Flash forward drama, let the realness collide. Worn-out booths where the ghosts confide. Old-school spirit, it's our joyride. Crumpled-up plans in the boombox fog. Shadowy figures in the cassette smog. Freestyles tighter than a hustler's claw. Track lens thick, cutting edges raw. Crumpled-up plans in the boombox fog. Shadowy figures in the cassette smog. Freestyles tighter than a hustler's claw. Track lens thick, cutting edges raw. Rust on the record, crack on the shell. Echo through the alleys like a siren's yell. Tape deck static, stories got swell. Memphis tells a tale you can't dispel. Living tape inside the eight-track scene. Rattle in the whip, rattle in the spleen. A loop hooked, dirtier than the lean. Memphis streets carved into the machine. Back to the tape where the legends reside. Flash forward drama, let the realness collide. Worn-out booths where the ghosts confide. Old-school spirit, it's our joyride. Our Joyride. On this our joyride. This our joyride. Back to the tape where the legends reside. Flash forward drama, let the realness collide. Worn-out booths where the ghosts confide. Old-school spirit, it's our joyride.