Run It Back

{"lyrics":"[intro]\nHa — ayy, ayy, skrrt, yuh, ha\n(come on) (let's go) (ha)\n\n[verse]\nI came up from the crack of the night shifts, no plan B, no white flags\nCounting wins on my knuckles, fingerprints on the match bags\nSwift with the wrist, flip scripture to lit scripture, I craft raps\nThey ask how I pivot — I answer with actions, not half-tracks\nPocket full of promises I made to the mirror, I keep 'em\nCity taught me barter — trade fear for focus, then reap 'em (reap 'em)\nMy ledger's a ledger of lessons, no reverend needed\nI preach on the move, in the coupe, enemies deleted\nChecks on my conscience, I cash out in confidence\nThey say I changed lanes, I say I built the damn continent\nPaper airplanes now move like freight, heavy with dreams\nI stitch up the seams, sew gold on the margin of schemes\nTiming like tinnitus — tick-tock in my temple, I hear it\nMake moves in silence then blast through the roof like a lyric\nCounting commas while they count reasons to doubt me, nah\nI taught my shadow to run for the bag and shout, \"Go hard\" (go hard)\nWatch me calibrate chaos and carve a clear lane\nI light candles on bad days and torch any fear's name (burn it down)\nThey throw shade like umbrellas, I make storms sell them back\nI turned late nights to blueprints, now the blueprint's a plaque\nMy tongue's a hammer — every line builds a new bridge\nI cross what I promise and leave footprints without a hitch (yuh)\nSkrrt through the checklist, cross off the could've been\nI write my own verdict, bench the doubt, let the faith win\nNo cameo in my story — I'm the author, the actor\nI fold rags into flags, raise 'em up, I'm the factor (ayy)\n\n[chorus]\nRun it back, run it back, watch me run it back, watch me run it back (run it back)\nRun it back, run it back, watch me run it back, watch me run it back (run it back)\nRun it back, run it back, watch me run it back, watch me run it back (run it back)\nRun it back, run it back, watch me run it back, watch me run it back (run it back)\n\n[break]\n\n[verse]\nThey said the wave was gone — I surfed it on asphalt, white knuckles\nMade a dinner from scraps, now the table got silver buckles\nI keep receipts for the nights I told myself \"one more\" (one more)\nEvery scar's a sermon, every loss was a lesson in score\nI flip metaphors like currency, spend 'em on better moves\nMy hustle's a language — fluent in come-up and venue cues\nCorner office? nah — I built a corner into a column\nI stack syllables like bricks, my mortar is solemn\nTriumph got a scent, you can smell it from ten blocks\nI whistle to my future and it pulls up in drop-top shock\nThey count my faults like taxes; I invest in my commas\nTurn debt into debit of doubt, then I balance the drama\nLife's a chess set, I'm moving knights through neon-free lanes\nSacrifice the easy to feast later on bigger gains\nI don't chase trends — I trend my chas