Hidden

#90ts Alright I learned early how to pray with my hands shaking, Knees on cold floors, stomach growling, faith breaking, They say God hear whispers, so I stopped yelling, Started talking to Him quiet when my chest felt like a cell in. I been real since before “real” was a brand name, Before likes, before chains, before clout became pain, I watched men turn fake just to eat off attention, I stayed solid, took losses, learned patience was tension. I don’t flex perfection, I flex survival, Every scar got a story, every breath is revival, I walk with God but my shoes still dusty, Been through hell, still praising, don’t ever mistake me for comfy. Missing my brother, that ache don’t fade, It just changes shape, learns where to hide in the day, Nighttime it creeps out, sit heavy on my lungs, Conversations with your picture, asking why you gone so young. I replay our laughs like they owe me money, Same jokes, same dreams, same “we gon’ be something,” Now I carry your name in my chest like a vest, Every move that I make, I’m trying to honor the rest. Streetlights taught lessons school never could, I seen good men break and bad men look good, I seen loyalty die over pride and a lie, Seen mothers lose sons, seen tears ask God “why?” I ain’t holy in the sense of being clean, I’m holy ’cause I bleed and still bow to the King, Still talk to God raw, no sugar, no script, Like “I’m tired, I’m angry, but please don’t let me slip.” I done wrestled with doubt like Jacob at night, Limped away with belief, scars proving the fight, Devil whisper shortcuts, fast money, quick fame, But I know every shortcut come with long-term pain. I keep it grimy ’cause life ain’t polished, Concrete raised me, hope was demolished, Still I found God in the cracks of the street, In the moments I should’ve folded, He carried my feet. I don’t talk guns for a gimmick or show, I talk trauma, survival, the things that I know, I talk funerals, phone calls that freeze your spine, That silence when you hear the news and the world stop time. Missing my brother got me cautious with joy, Like happiness fragile, easy destroyed, I smile but I guard it, keep grief in my coat, Some days I’m afloat, some days I barely afloat. I learned being real mean saying “I’m not okay,” Mean choosing faith even when fear want to stay, Mean loving God even when prayers feel late, Even when heaven feel quiet and the wait feel fake. I seen pastors fall and killers repent, Seen addicts get clean, seen strong men bent, Life don’t pick sides, it just swing that blade, Only constant I know is the mercy He gave. I rap for the ones who cry in the car, Who love God heavy but still carry scars, Who miss someone daily but still gotta eat, Still gotta show strength with grief under they feet. If my brother hear this, I hope you proud, I ain’t perfect, but I’m honest, I ain’t lost in the crowd, I kept my soul when it cost me a lot, Kept God close when the devil took shots. I’m still here, still breathing, still saying His name, Still real, still grimy, still walking through pain, And until I see you again beyond time and the sky, I’ll live for the both of us and never ask why.