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lirik lagu dj adams (soad) - no ink left

[verse 1: dj adams]
i spit pavement gospel, graffiti on the temple
these bars chipped from bricks, flow rugged and mental
i carry every scar like a medal from the war
every rhyme a blade edge, ink blood on the floor
from park bench cyphers to stairwell sermons
i studied every great, from kane to eric sermon
i don’t rap for the streams, i breathe in the dust
kick snares with my soul, break beats into crust
i’m the silence in a pause that comes right before the k!ll
the twitch in the eye when you know it’s too real
i seen ciphers go cold when i step in the light
cause i black out the sun just from flexin’ my might
you quote tweets, i quote prophets in the booth
my words ain’t ai—they bleed out the truth
microphone martyr, turn a verse to a shrine
got scriptures in the bars, and a sermon in my line
i don’t do tiktok dances, i do damage
still spit like it’s ‘94—raw and unbalanced
this ain’t content, this is the wrath of a pen
from the ash of a cipher, i was born once again
every metaphor’s mean like it borrowed a debt
i put the ink in pain, then tattooed regret
in the middle of the static, i emerge with a calm
like a monk with a mic and a verse full of bombs
these bars ain’t written, they were raised in a cage
taught to bite through steel, never break from the rage
i spit for the ones that still sharpen the blade
not for clout chasers caught in algorithm haze
this beat’s a relic, and my flow’s the curse
i give ghosts a voice in every verse
a bar’s just a prison ’til you make it a key
so i dig through rhythm just to set minds free
you chase trends, i chase time with a shovel
digging for the roots in this concrete struggle
i ain’t here for fame or the empty applause
i’m here to remind ‘em why they feared the raw
every punchline’s pressure, every simile’s lead
i write like the future depends on what’s said
so if the beat flips, let it bring on the storm
i’ll still rhyme through the flood, hoodied and sworn
this ain’t rap—it’s a last will penned in code
a cipher in flames down a memory road
you want 48 more? i’ll lace ‘em like boots
with the soul of the struggle embedded in roots
[verse 2: dj adams]
needles skip on my soul when the loop comes around
dusty wax memories echo deep in the sound
i grew up where the boom~bap blessed our grief
and the vinyl hiss spoke more than the local priest
old heads with tapes passed knowledge in codes
taught me bars build bridges and explode in loads
i seen kids get lost in the static and smoke
swallowed whole by the bassline’s gutter and hope
my rhyme book’s torn—pages burnt at the edge
like i scribbled through a riot with blood in my pledge
every metaphor formed from a fatherless verse
and every punchline’s cut got a silence that hurts
i ain’t here to be safe—i was bred for the breaks
like when preemo flipped drums that could rattle a snake
i ain’t performin’ for likes, i perform for release
for the kids in the dark with their headphones in peace
mic chord wrapped tight like a snake in the hand
venom in the delivery, i dismantle the brand
i’m the gasp before the shot, the pause before the drop
the moment you realize this beat just won’t stop
still rockin’ champion hoodies in summer sun
still write like i’m broke with a loaded tongue
i don’t need your cosign—i been signed by scars
got a label in the street and a vault full of bars
this the tape you find buried in a shoebox grave
where the truth got dubbed over chains and slaves
i spit rusted, busted, unrepaired heat
like a beatdown speaker that still brings the street
rap used to teach—now it tweets and dances
but i pen revolutions between these stanzas
you a product, i’m process—industrial mind
still polish each word ’til it shatters in time
can’t cage what’s real—it leaks through the seams
so i write in graffiti and dream in machines
i am not nostalgia—i am war with the clock
i exist where the needle and the pain interlock
keep your playlist—i got tapes in the fire
and verses that could resurrect burnt~out choirs
[verse 3: dj adams]
i chewed on pens ’til the plastic cracked
spit lines so sharp they could bend the track
a beast in the booth, monk with a grudge
and my rhyme’s got a limp from the punches i judge
can’t front—this ain’t made for the mainstream feel
this is that corner~store cipher with banana peel steel
you post bars? i post bail with my flow
out the county of decay, where no gimmicks grow
got beats on cassette, thoughts from a storm
and a mouth like a furnace where the real is born
i don’t follow no charts, i follow the scars
mapped out in my skin from emotional wars
every line like a swing from a pendulum blade
where the past meets the rhythm and decisions get made
i done rapped through droughts, through break~ups and deaths
still came out breathin’ with the mic on my chest
no hook, no gimmick, just hunger and text
and a chip on my shoulder i ain’t learned to forget
this that park bench blues, that crate~diggin’ sermon
where your name gets tested every time you’re determined
i seen kings fall off chasin’ digital ghosts
while i stayed grounded in the art that spoke most
i ain’t in it for the chain or the playlist slot
i’m in it for the nights where the cyphers got hot
you hear the loop? it’s the echo of truth
it’s the cl!ck~clack of the past loading bars in the booth
we the last of the breed with the vinyl~scarred souls
still sample pain and loop the toll
the beat don’t stop—it just morphs and waits
for a voice that’s honest with a venom that aches
[verse 4: dj adams]
i came from the era of spit or fade
where you couldn’t fake bars ‘cause the street got played
you ain’t safe when the dj rewinds the track
it’s a spotlight test, and you might not come back
i remember spittin’ in stairwells with no roof
just echo, smoke, and the hunger for truth
cipher scars on my jaw from the words i bit
battle wounds from the nights where the flames got lit
ain’t no costume rap—i ain’t wearin’ no mask
my identity’s the ink in a broken flask
you flex for attention, i flex for survival
i learned flow from grief and rhythm from rivals
i’m that dusty mpc left in the lab
still tappin’ soul loops in a world gone mad
i’m the beat between thoughts, the rhyme you ain’t caught
the moment the dj brings that sample in raw
you can talk your talk, but the silence speaks louder
when the beat drops dead and the crowd gets prouder
this ain’t studio clean—it’s bas~m~nt~built
where the mic got rust and the pop filter guilt
you sound like everyone—i sound like regret
like a lost voicemail that you never forget
i write ‘til my fingers look carved in stone
and my throat burns black from the verses i own
i done failed in the booth, had to sharpen my blade
came back with a vengeance like a soul unafraid
you don’t hear me—you feel me in the chest
like a gunshot breath that never left the vest

[verse 5: dj adams]
it’s that walkman~worn, 40~pound rhyme kit
where the loop’s so grimy, you can smell the grit
i was raised by crates, mentored by hiss
taught that a sample was a prayer, and the drum was a fist
you ain’t built for this—this vinyl don’t lie
it cracks when it breaks, and it screams when it dies
i record in bas~m~nts with ceilings that drip
spit heat in the cold with a loose mic grip
no pro tools polish, just pain on the tape
every verse a confession that i barely escaped
i write with a limp and i rhyme with a growl
like a wolf with a notebook and a vengeance foul
they ask why i don’t chase the clout parade
i say i walk through the beat with a throwback blade
no ghostwriters, just ghosts in my pen
and i summon ‘em all when i rhyme again
ain’t no “vibe” here—it’s war in my booth
every ad~lib’s a gasp and a bomb of truth
y’all rap like trend, i rap like cause
like i bled through the mix and i died for the bars
i don’t pose in the photos, i pose in the verse
with a shadow so deep you could fold the earth
this for every time i was told to quit
but the mic kept calling like a haunted crypt
so i dug up rhythm with dirt in my nails
and i wrote these scriptures for the ones who failed
i ain’t your “content king,” i’m a rhyme~fed freak
who still breaks beats with the soul of the meek

[verse 6: dj adams]
my flow smell like bas~m~nts, sweat, and gin
like burnt~out sage and the sins i been in
ain’t no clean mix, this the raw uncut
the feeling of a broke man swingin’ from the gut
my voice ain’t autotuned, it’s just cracked and bent
like a record left warped on a porch cement
i rhyme like a storm in a tape~deck riot
when the snares hit low and the crowd goes quiet
you could feel the static off the needle’s kiss
when the past rewinds and it sounds like this
i don’t chase the deal—i chase the release
like my verse is a beast that i keep on a leash
no fame, just truth—no cap, just bleed
i rap for the prayer that the broken need
this mic got rust, and my voice got ghosts
i’ve seen whole dreams rot from instagram posts
i spit what i live, not what trends suggest
and i drop more pain than your playlist pressed
you tiktok rappin’? i tick like bombs
detonate soul on a beat with psalms
i’m the last of a breed that believed in bars
where a loop and a rhyme could erase your scars
this ain’t swag—it’s a sermon with t~~th
for the kids with a spiral and pain underneath
i ain’t flossin’—i’m fightin’, i’m fused with the mud
with a verse full of hunger and a pen full of blood

[verse 7: dj adams]
i carry sixteen tons of tape in my chest
every reel a regret, every beat a test
i been broke with bars, i been rich in rage
i been cryin’ over mics in a sonic cage
still dig for that soul in a lost bassline
where the snare don’t snap, but it whines in time
you post to go viral—i post to survive
with a rhyme that’s a ritual to keep me alive
this ain’t rap—it’s relic, it’s rust, it’s grime
it’s that “rap ‘til i die” over looped~out time
i am not what you stream, i’m what you endure
the echo of truth when the hype ain’t pure
this for every spit i did with my t~~th clenched tight
every rhyme i wrote alone in the fluorescent night
i treat beats like graveyards, i walk with care
‘cause i buried too many dreams under snares
these lines ain’t clean—they’re stained with fear
from the days i begged the mic just to make me clear
every sample’s a mirror, every drum a trap
every rhyme a decision that might break my back
but i still rap—with the weight and the wail
still pray in these verses that the ship might sail
you commercial? i’m cursed. you polished? i’m bruised
you make “hits,” i make truth, win or lose
this ain’t pop, this is prophecy off~beat
with a mic that still cracks when it feels defeat
so keep your campaign—i campaign in pain
with a loop, a crate, and a storm for a brain

[verse 8: dj adams]
this the last breath written, no ink left in sight
just dust in the page and a will to fight
every bar’s a goodbye to a part of my soul
and a fist to the sky that refused to fold
i wrote ‘til the pen gave up in my grip
‘til the notebook screamed and the lines got ripped
this ain’t rap no more—it’s requiem flame
it’s the ghost of my hunger screamin’ out my name
i done buried my style, now i spit from the dirt
with a mouth full of ashes and a verse that hurts
you talk streams—i talk scars and fate
where i bled on the beat and got saved too late
i’m the rapper they forgot ‘til the rhyme came back
like a shadow in the vinyl with a soul gone black
there’s nothin’ left but cadence and wrath
and the memory of drums that lit up my path
so i spit this last 48 like a will in stone
like the booth is a tomb that i carved alone
i ain’t got no hook, no chorus, no plan
just a mic in my hand and a ghost in the stand
these are not just bars—these are bones and t~~th
from the wolves i fought while i chased belief
if i die in this beat, let ‘em play it loud
let the wax spin slow in a mourning crowd
i gave it all—gave the sweat and the sound
now i’m ashes in rhythm, forever underground

- lirik lagu dj adams soad

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