Scrap King

[Intro] [Verse 1] They see me bendin’ down, grippin’ rusted dreams, Old bolts and broken chains, life’s a twisted stream. Side-eye the hustle, call it trash, but I’m schemin’, Every piece I salvage? Man, that’s cash in my regime. Got scars on my palms, but my pockets stay chubby, Critics yell, “He’s crazy!”—nah, I’m just too bloody hungry. Crown me in copper, let the bassline thump gritty, I built my throne from scraps in this concrete city. [Verse 2] They laugh at my dirt, but my bank account’s pristine, Diamonds in the rough? Yeah, I’m the scrap machine. Distorted beats bump like the junk in my trunk, Who’s broke now? Check the digits—I’m the comeback punk. Judge my grind, but I’m the king of the debris, From rags to riches, every rusted gear set me free. The streets whisper legends ’bout the man who won’t kneel, I stack my worth while y’all stuck on how it *feels*. [Outro]