Bassline drips like candle wax, Raashan slides on the ride,
“Keep your chin sky-high when the world push low,” he cries.
Horns braid the break, lungs bloom like brass sunflowers,
Kick-drum heart skips, we moon-walk on doubt’s ashes.
“Work it out—sweat is just fear leaving the body,”
Every grunt a vowel, every snare a period to yesterday.
Lift, lace, breathe—repeat; the groove is a gentle chiropractor.
Night drips silver, we stack smiles higher than rent.
Last chorus rises, hands become chandeliers of yes.