Hardcore Hop-Hop by MC Burrow B

Intro

Yo. Burrow B. Wipe your feet.

Verse 1

Ears up at the threshold, teeth on the latch.

You duck coming in or the ceiling takes tax.

Two streets the kits use, chalk still wet on brick.

Bent needle buried — that's the proof in the wax.

You call it hop. I call it who tracked mud in.

Hook

Hop hop, hardcore, ain't no hip in this hop,

bunny business running, and the needle don't stop.

Burrow B commanding, low ceiling, low door,

same two streets I've been running since before.

Verse 2

Same night, lower tunnel, air like a wet coat.

Deck on a root older than the warren's first floor.

Needle catching rust. The drain takes what floods left.

Somebody upstairs sings my bars in the wrong key.

I let him finish. Echo knows the hole it left.

Hook

Drop

Hop hop, let's go, hop hop, get down,

hop hop, let's go, hop hop, get down,

hop hop, let's go, hop hop, get down,

hop hop, let's go, hop hop, get down.

Verse 3

Warren was three rooms and a blanket that never dried.

Now they steal the phrase with my dirt on the consonants.

They copy the twitch, miss the count before the scratch.

Same turn every time. The drop still has my feet on it.

Left ear gets the crowd half a second early.

I don't get louder. I stand where the roof is lowest.

Hook

Bridge

They drew a mascot. Missed the shift.

Paint peels off the brick, but the B stays under it.

No poster law. Just what the kits already keep:

needle still buried — set isn't yours.

Verse 4

Boards tick when the room's had enough.

Wax holds my heat from the crate.

One breath before the last bar.

Tables warm, scratches turn, crowd on the two.

Not a season. Same two streets, later.

I run it till the needle snaps. Then I thread the spare.

Hook

Outro

Burrow B. Out. Door stays low.