BUILDING BLUEPRINT
Next level lyrical insight is a moment away.
Lyrical Analysis of...
The Real Test
- Step into the boardroom like I’m stepping onto a battlefield when I enter
- Polished marble floors gleaming like the barrel of a Beretta
- Under fluorescent lights, eyes following me, I see them glance at me
- Feeling pressure, some call it nerves, I call it gravity
- Came strapped like I always do, I don’t walk in without weaponry
- The deal on the table ain’t just business, it’s legacy
- Boutta make headlines in The Wall Street Journal, and send tremors
- Through the terminals coast to coast, this is my warfare, bitches
- The kind that spills blood and kills careers, I had climbed from an
- Area where power meant something else entirely
- Back when respect came with Glocks and being ready was a requirement
- Still carry steel, my moves landing like shots I’m firin’
- Playing high stakes, was warned that many people choke
- But my aim ain’t weak, success is taken through sweat and smoke
- And by learning, and knowing when to shoot someone in the head
- Or when to let the silence do all the shooting instead
- I sign, stroke of the pen, clean and final like my .40 caliber
- Make NASDAQ buzz, when it comes to maneuvering, I’m the master, bitch
- I stay loaded, power, purpose and pressure all chambered and ready
- Moving like a legend, I built this brick by brick, because I’m gritty
- Secondhand Glock named Eleanor, my name moving through the boroughs
- In marble halls, half fear, half faith, my head heavy from gold
- Enemies buried, they cracked under the same pressure I wear like cologne
- Silence falling when I enter a room, my guns aren’t always guns bro
- Sometimes they’re contracts, or eyes locked across a table
- Where a nod means war, success follows me, but so does danger
- Like Achilles, I’m untouchable, power pulsing through the building
- Signing away people’s futures while sipping whiskey
- Respect is earned in inches, and pressure is the part they don’t teach
- Sirens wailing like actual sirens, warming or welcoming, don’t matter really
- Rolex glinting against the low lit room, the weight’s on me
- Not just on my wrist, but in the way the room waits for me to leave
- And the world waits for my next move, wondering what it’s gonna be
- Because when you hold power, everybody wanna see
- But power’s like that thick ass voltage running through a downed line
- Everybody wants to touch it till it fuckin’ fries
- Their dumbass ambition straight into oblivion
- They scream for it, beg for the juice, but can’t handle it when it hits
- Ain’t it funny, they chase the success like it’s a fine piece of ass in
- A room full of simps, not realizing it takes more than thirst to have it
- You gotta bite, chew, and digest it, but they gaggin’
- On pressure, like weak lungs in a hurricane that’s boutta attack them
- Respect is a slippery motherfucker, everyone wants it handed
- To them on a silver tray like they’re owed whatever they’re lackin’
- Just for breathing, nah, you earn that shit in the trenches, when your back is
- Breaking and your name’s being dragged through dirt, and you don’t fold
- That’s where it’s born, it's forged in fire, but most of these bozos
- Melt before the heat even touches ‘em, and pressure is the real test
- That bitch don’t knock, it kicks the door down and sits on your chest
- Like sleep paralysis with a vengeance, it’s judging you bro
- That exposes the real ones, some turn into diamonds, but most don’t
- It's all fun and games 'til you're the one holding the live wire
- Sparking under everyone's expectations while they admire
- They forget the crown weighs like it’s forged from every eye watchin’
- Judging, waiting for you to trip, you wanted to be on top, bitch
- Congrats, welcome to the stratosphere, where the air's so damn thin
- You can’t breathe without gasping on your own ambition
- You bleed out your weekends until your soul is clocked in 24/7
- They clap when you win, but where were they when you
- Were eating shit for breakfast, lunch, and betrayal for dinner
- Now they nod, give you that look like you matter, you don't though
- You're just a trophy they wanna flex about knowin’
- Everybody wants to be saluted, but no one wants to earn it
- They forget that respect ain’t free, and not everyone deserves it
What is a Blueprint?
A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.
Learn More >