Tin Foil Crown

Intro

Yeah...

Back alley mathematics

Somebody left the oven on again

Ha—

Verse 1

Came through the side door, shoes full of sidewalk

Brain like a scrapyard, thoughts never quite walk

Talk with a crooked grin, laugh with a busted tooth

Truth got a funny way of hiding in a rubber booth

Pocket full of coupons, still shopping like a king

Bought a broken clock just to hear the motherfucker ring

Landlord knocking, I was cooking up a scheme

Told him "come back Tuesday," Tuesday came in my dream

Mask on the mantle, hat on the radiator

Villain in the basement arguing with the refrigerator

Said I need a fortune, found a fortune cookie

Read the prophecy twice, then ate the little rookie

I don't chase clout, I let the rumor chase me

Ghost in the hallway, somebody better trace me

Pen got mileage, every page got tire marks

Writing in the dark with a flashlight made of fire sparks

Hook

Tin foil crown, king of the lost-and-found

Laughing at the throne while the palace burns down

No gold in the vault, just a notebook and a sound

If the world goes quiet, you'll still hear me underground

Tin foil crown, crooked when I wear it

Everybody wants the truth till somebody has to bear it

Built a little empire out of scraps and spare parts

Now the city got a heartbeat coming straight from the dark

Verse 2

Villainous appetite, cereal at midnight

Reading old newspapers underneath the streetlight

Found my own obituary, dated next week

Underlined the headline, circled "mysteriously"

Never been a hero, never needed the cape

Heroes need applause, villains study the escape

I make jokes so dry they need water when they land

Shake your hand politely while a blueprint leaves my hand

Mad scientist manners, laboratory etiquette

Shoelace untied but somehow never tripping yet

Cat on the windowsill looking like an informant

I asked him for directions, he just stared—important

Clockwork thoughts ticking out of crooked alignment

Every line bent sideways, every rhyme needs a chiropractor

Built beats out of broken radios and kitchen noise

Turn a pile of junk into a choir of mechanical boys

Hook

Tin foil crown, king of the lost-and-found

Laughing at the throne while the palace burns down

No gold in the vault, just a notebook and a sound

If the world goes quiet, you'll still hear me underground

Bridge

Shhh...

Don't tell 'em where the basement is.

Don't tell 'em what the notebook says.

Don't tell 'em why the mailbox is breathing.

Matter fact—

Forget everything.

Verse 3

I got a PhD in making something out of nothing

Professor of the school of "keep it moving, stop discussing"

Graduated summa cum laude from the gutter

Valedictorian speech: "I don't owe you motherfuckers"

Made a million-dollar thought from a nickel-store pen

Then spent the whole advance on a door with no end

Walking through walls like the landlord ain't home

If reality's a cage, then I'm sharpening the chrome—

Nah.

Sharpening the pencil.

Violence ain't the answer when the metaphor's official

I'd rather leave a riddle underneath your windshield

Then disappear before you figure out the final field

Last page missing, so the story never closes

Every rose got thorns, every throne got rodents

Villain walks off while the credits start rolling

Mask stays still, but you know that I'm smiling

Outro

Tin foil crown on a head full of static

Basement beat knocking, situation problematic

If you hear three knocks, don't open that door

There ain't nobody there...

...probably.