In lockup I learned how to breathe real slow, eat shit, keep quiet, never let it show. In the box, out on papers, fuck up once, back in the box — that’s the loop, no favors. No clean slate, no saving grace, brother. He tells me stop, slips me cash like pity, keep your blood money, man, that shit feels filthy. I was the one who stood in front, little brother, I took it for you — you never took it for me, not ever. That shit fries my head, brother. Gas station jobs? Easy math. But the cashier’s a moron with a gun — then click — bad. Now I’m stuck here, sirens screaming, outside it’s blue strobes — your blue strobes — bleeding. Everything shakes. Freeze frame.