A rhythm's call, a primal, wordy quest.
The mic in hand, a weapon sharp and bold,
A story's told, a truth to be unrolled.
From concrete streets, a voice begins to rise,
A symphony of syllables, reaching for the skies.
The rhymes ignite, like sparks in the night,
Each syllable a flicker, burning ever bright.
A battle of wits, a lyrical ballet,
Flowing like a river, carving its own way.
Metaphors and similes, woven in the weave,
A tapestry of words, a narrative to believe.
The crowd leans in, their bodies sway and sway,
Lost in the music, hypnotized by the play.
The rapper's energy, a force that can't be tamed,
A fire in their soul, a passion unrestrained.
From hip-hop's heart, a message takes its flight,
Of struggle and hope, bathed in the neon light.
A voice for the voiceless, a champion of the real,
Rapping's power, a force that we can feel.