Yeah, I’m the ghost in the booth, slip the noose, then I vanish—
Houdini in a hoodie, pull a verse out the attic,
Saw the game in half, now it’s beggin’ for stitches,
I’m back, handcuffed to the past, pick it open with lyrics.
Crowd gasps as the beat drops—abracadabra—
I reappear, cigar smoke shaped like my trauma;
You trap yourself in glass boxes of TikTok fame,
I escape with a breath, leave my name in the chains.