Trap&Blues - I DIDN'T HAVE A CHANCE, BUT I WON - (Original Mix)🥃

🎧 WELCOME TO TRAP E BLUES Music created with the help of our friend IA, but produced, remastered, and written by me. ... LYRIC: Verse I The inventory of nothing is a comprehensive document I've read it cover to cover — every relinquishment Catalogued — no patrimony — no inherited trajectory No pedigreed address — no promissory note from history That said my name belonged in any room that mattered Just the raw geography of a life before it gathered Momentum — concrete underneath — no cushion and no net The kind of starting point that teaches you there's no reset My father left the way men leave when weight exceeds their bearing My mother worked the double shift with something past despairing Into the pragmatic — something quieter and fiercer I watched her and I understood — the world responds to those who pierce it Hook I built my floor from their ceiling Used every no as scaffolding Every door they closed became the dealing Of a hand I'd learn to play past middling I came from nothing — that's not sentiment That's the factual environment From which the whole ascent was sent Upward — through the impediment Of everything they said I wasn't I became — and then some — and then doesn't Cover it — I became the proof That nothing is the sturdiest roof Verse II The rooms that didn't want me inadvertently schooled me In their own perimeter — in how the entitled ruled me Out before I'd spoken — how the threshold of admission Was designed for those who came with prior permission I studied those mechanisms with the concentrated fury Of a man who has no time for bitterness — the jury Of his own ambition sitting permanent and sequestered From the noise — I took what every closed door festered Into — took the condescension and the sideways glances Took the unreturned calls and the diminished chances And I converted every single one into a unit Of propulsion — that's the alchemy — to get through it You must metabolize the rejection — make it cellular Let it restructure you from molecular to spectacular Hook I built my floor from their ceiling Used every no as scaffolding Every door they closed became the dealing Of a hand I'd learn to play past middling I came from nothing — that's not sentiment That's the factual environment From which the whole ascent was sent Upward — through the impediment Of everything they said I wasn't I became — and then some — and then doesn't Cover it — I became the proof That nothing is the sturdiest roof Verse III There were mornings I mistook exhaustion for finality When the body and the circumstance conspired with banality To suggest that this was all — that the contour of the possible Stopped here — I've sat with that — with the impossible Made domestic — made routine — made the uninhabitable Into somewhere that I lived — the undeniable Fact of mornings after nights I didn't think I'd navigate Those mornings are the ones that calibrate A man beyond what comfort ever could — because the ones Who only rose from softness never learned what runs Beneath the ordinary — never touched the subterranean Reservoir of will that only scarcity makes seen I touched it — I inhabited it — I made it my foundation Built everything that followed on that underground libation Bridge The victory is not the penthouse — not the recognition Not the deference of rooms — not the acquisitional position At the apex — those are symptoms — those are the peripheral Evidence of something deeper — something more spherical And complete — the victory is the morning I decided That the story they had written for me would be elided From the manuscript entirely — that the authorship was mine Was always mine — that the plotline and the design Belonged to the one inhabiting the life — not to the chorus Of external voices who presumed to speak before us And for us — the victory is that I refused their narrative Long before I had the means to make my own declarative Outro Top floor… looking down at where I started… no nostalgia — just the charted… distance between then and now… between the boy who didn't know how… and the man who built the how… from the refusing to allow… the world's inventory… of what I lacked… to be the final word… I came from nothing… and nothing… taught me everything… I needed… to come back… as everything… #TRAP&BLUES #trap #blues #trapblues #darktrap #gangsterrap #mafiamusic #bluestrap #darkmusic #mafiavibes #beats #producer #instrumental #urbanblues #gangster #underground #nightvibes #moodybeats #cinematicmusic #trapbeats #typebeat