Sound Too Big

Twenty dollars

in my pocket.

(mm-hmm) Cheap room.

Bad speakers.

One light hanging

from the ceiling.

Didn't look like much.

Neither did I.

But I could hear it bigger.

Way bigger.

I heard drums that weren't there yet.

Crowds I couldn't see yet.

Whole fucking room shaking—

before I even had the bass.

TWENTY DOLLARS

AND A SOUND TOO BIG FOR THE ROOM.

NOTHING IN MY HANDS BUT I WALKED LIKE I HAD SOMETHING TO

LOSE.

STARTED WITH A LITTLE—

NEVER MADE IT SOUND SMALL.

If I couldn't buy the whole damn thing— I'd build it

one piece at a time.

Next room. Better speakers.

Same motherfucker. Now the kick got weight.

(yeah) Bass got teeth.

People started looking over like— “Who made that?” Me.

Twenty became fifty.

Fifty became five hundred.

Not overnight. Not magically.

Just one more piece

every time I could reach it.

I never needed the room to look expensive.

I needed the fucking record to sound like it was.

TWENTY DOLLARS AND A SOUND TOO BIG FOR THE ROOM!

NOW THE FLOOR GOT BASS,

AND THE STRINGS CUT THROUGH!

STARTED WITH A LITTLE—

NEVER MADE IT SOUND SMALL!

Every time the ceiling got higher— I MADE THE MUSIC TALLER.

Remember this?

Now—

Twenty dollars. That's where it started.

But starting small

and thinking small—

ain't the same fucking thing.

TWENTY DOLLARS! NOW LISTEN TO THE FUCKING ROOM!

DRUMS LIKE THUNDER!

BASS THROUGH THE FLOOR!

STRINGS TO THE CEILING!

AND I STILL WANT MORE!

(let's go!) STARTED WITH A LITTLE— NEVER MADE IT SOUND SMALL!

“Still got twenty?”

“Probably not.”