From 18 to 23

[Verse 1]
Grew up kinda quiet
Just school, home, same street
Mama thought I’d make it
Cap and gown, clean sheet
Turned 18, wrong crowd
Smoke thick in the backseat
First time heard sirens
Heart beatin off-beat
Said, "I’m good, I’m straight"
Lyin both to me and her
One ride, two rides
Then it all got worse
Blue lights in the rearview
Hands shakin, cold seat
Name wrote on a clipboard
First stain on my rap sheet
[Chorus]
From 18 to 23, I been runnin
From them lights, from my name, from the mirror in the morning (yeah)
Had cuffs on my wrists, had my mama eyes floodin
Now I’m tired of the chains, tired of always feelin cornered
From 18 to 23, I been learnin
That the fire that I played with burns more than it’s warmin (uh)
I was prayin in a cell, now I’m workin
Tryna write a new page, tryna be a new story
[Verse 2]
County phone call, "Mama,
I’m sorry, it’s me again"
She said, "Boy, I still love you
But your choices ain’t your friends"
Nights starin at the ceiling
Names carved in the bunk frame
Young face, old charges
Whole life in a one-page
Came home with a curfew
Folks look like I’m bad news
Same block, same offers
Same trap, same bad moves
But I’m sick of that cycle
Got a shot I might keep
Still scared of them sirens
But I ain’t gotta run each week
[Chorus]
From 18 to 23, I been runnin
From them lights, from my name, from the mirror in the morning
Had cuffs on my wrists, had my mama eyes floodin
Now I’m tired of the chains, tired of always feelin cornered
From 18 to 23, I been learnin
That the fire that I played with burns more than it’s warmin
I was prayin in a cell, now I’m workin
Tryna write a new page, tryna be a new story
[Bridge]
Yeah I still got scars
I still got a record
Still got some rage
Still got to do better (uh)
But I still got breath
Still got my brother
Still got a chance
To give hope to my mother (yeah)
[Chorus]
From 18 to 23, I ain’t runnin
From my past, from my pain, from the mirror in the morning
Had cuffs on my wrists, had my mama eyes floodin
Now I’m ownin my name, I’m the one who do the callin
From 18 to 23, I’m returnin
From the dark, from the dirt, from the fire I was burnin
I was prayin in a cell, now I’m certain
I can write a new page, I can be my own story (my own story)

rap, Moody, introspective trap beat at 84 BPM, minor key piano over warm sub bass and tight drums; male vocals sit close and confessional in the verses, then widen with stacked harmonies on the hook. Subtle reversed pads and vocal chops in the background, with the final chorus stripping to just piano and bass for a raw, hopeful outro., deep