The Rise & The Reckoning

Lyrics

​[Verse 1: The High Life]
I traded the textbooks for a digital scale
Now the money’s coming in, man, it’s coming by the bale
I’m the king of the landing, the prince of the square
Every time I walk past, everybody’s gotta stare.
I got the Prada for the flex, the Avirex for the warmth
I was broke back in April, now I’m winning by the fourth
Man are calling me "Big Man," giving me the nod
In this concrete jungle, I’m feeling like a god.
No more skipping meals, now it’s Nando’s every day
I tell my runners where to go and tell 'em where to stay
Respect in the ends, yeah, I earned it in a month
Blowing purple smoke while I’m rolling up a blunt.
The perks are looking sweet, and the phone won't stop
I’m the one the girls want, I’m the king of the shop.
​[Chorus]
The money feels good and the power feels better
Thought I was a boss, thought I was a go-getter
But the game is a trap and the trap's gonna spring
One man’s loss is the end of the king
From the top of the world to the bottom of the pit
Watch how the lifestyle starts to un-knit.
​[Verse 2: The Overdose]
But the game’s got a tax and the tax is a life
I was selling that poison, I was sharp as a knife
There was this one regular, name was "Old School Dan"
Always at the window with a fiver in his hand.
I gave him the "heavy" stuff, the pure, the uncut
Told him "Be careful," then I slammed the door shut.
Next morning, the estate’s looking eerie and quiet
Blue lights everywhere, looking like a riot
Found Dan in the stairwell, grey in the face
The white powder residue all over the place.
The feds didn't treat it like a regular OD
They saw a link to the block—and the link was to me.
​[Verse 3: The Takedown]
Investigation’s mounting, man, I’m feeling the heat
The same "respect" I had? It’s gone off the street
Friends turning ghost, "Rico" won't answer the line
Now I’m realizing that the crown wasn't mine.
6:00 AM, and the door hits the floor
"POLICE! GET DOWN!"—man, I couldn't do no more.
Face-down on the carpet I bought with the profit
The life I was building? They’re picking the pocket.
Evidence bagged up: the scales and the burner
Just another "good kid" turned "street corner earner."
Now I’m sitting in the van, looking back at the flats
While the "fiend" I ignored is the one who kills my stats.
​[Outro: Beat cuts to a slow, distorted bass thud]
Respect? It’s a ghost.
The money? Confiscated.
One life gone, and mine’s just... wasted.
Old school grime.
Real life.
Locked.