Brixton Bassline Glide

Low-key pattern, I move through the grey

Thin saw whisper, let the dark decay

Step in the mist,

got the code in my tone Cold on the mic,

but the pulse still shows Brixton line,

I be zoned in the lane Mind on the chase,

never stuck in the frame Talk too neat,

but the bars stay raw Dry top line with a grainy draw

Patois lean when I bend that phrase Cut through noise in a

fractured haze

Hold that breath, let the pressure rise

Low-pass sweep when I open the skies

Every word got a sharpened edge

Every step on the ledge,

no slip, no threat

We move in the dark,

then we glow on cue

Saw sound lift when the hook come through

Dry hats click, and the snare stay rough

Grain in the top,

but the swing stay tough

We move in the dark,

then we glow on cue

Saw sound lift when the hook come through

A minor mood, got the whole room spun

Cold in the verse,

then the hook go sun

I don't chat much,

I just read the room

Bassline roll like a lunar moon

Head stay high, but the face stay calm

Steady in the storm with a coded charm

Pattern on pattern, I layer the thought

Every small move got a borderless plot

From the block to the cut,

I keep it sleek

Pressure in the pocket when I speak that street

Hold that breath, let the pressure rise Low-pass sweep when I open

the skies

Every word got

a sharpened edge

Every step on the ledge,

no slip, no threat

We move in the dark,

then we glow on cue

Saw sound lift when the hook come through

Dry hats click, and the snare stay rough

Grain in the top,

but the swing stay tough

We move in the dark,

then we glow on cue

Saw sound lift when the hook come through

A minor mood, got the whole room spun

Cold in the verse,

then the hook go sun

Let the dust sit,

let the waveform bend

Night-time cipher with a spiral end

Thin line shimmer when the filters climb

Then it breathe real wide on the final line

We move in the dark,

then we glow on cue

Saw sound lift when the hook come through

Dry hats click, and the snare stay rough

Grain in the top,

but the swing stay tough

We move in the dark,

then we glow on cue

Saw sound lift when the hook come through

A minor mood, got the whole room spun

Cold in the verse,

then the hook go sun Low-key pattern,

fade in the grey

Thin saw whisper, then it drifts away