Like father, like son, chrome inherit the spark,
Forty-five in the trunk, same scowl after dark.
Daddy did the block sprint, I just lap it in cruise,
His scars on my knuckles, his demons in my shoes.
Busta baptize the beat—growl gospel in the air,
I spit the syllabus of sinners, legacy I wear.
From corners to condos, the hunger stays wild,
Still ducking that shadow, but I smile like my child.