PATCHBAY MASTERS

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PATCHBAY MASTERS lyrics

Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.

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Intro

Patchbay prayers in a broom-lit room, racks breathe slow I stamp “DO NOT SIGN” with a dry-ink nib, let it show Two worlds in one door, steel floor, warm mic foam Node to node, I move the song like I move the load

Verse 1

City ain’t famous, but the grid in me got passports Badge lanyard on my hoodie, I blueprint the afterthoughts Patchbay labeled in tape, A1, B2, routed clean Wallet tucked in the drawer where the spare XLRs been I’m syncing stems with snapshots, mirrors in the backup set Fans talk in eighth-notes, metal teeth when the cables connect I draw circles on a whiteboard, arrows like freeway exits Local smoke on the block, global hands in my metrics I don’t chase a gate, I build a gate with a lock I hold Catalog like a data hall, every hook is a rented pole

Chorus

If it ain’t on-chain, it ain’t mine I sign with keys, not their pen line Fan-whirr, click-click, hear the design One mic, one node, worldwide

Verse 2

A&R stroll in, cologne thick, smile like a gasket Slides the contract on my console, says “Let’s make it platinum” Talks about advance money, talks like it’s mercy But the clause got teeth in it, circles tight like a jersey They want my presets, my servers, my roster, my wave Want the room tone, the fan noise, the whole brave Says “We’ll market the brand,” then points at my master drive I see my community in that line, I see them getting deprived Temptation got a warm hand, I won’t lie, it taps my ribs But I read the word “forever” and my stomach flips

Chorus

If it ain’t on-chain, it ain’t mine. I sign with keys, not their pen line. Fan-whirr, click-click, hear the design. One mic, one node, worldwide.

Verse 3

I seen boys from my zip code trade crown for a check Signed at a diner booth, lost their sound in the debt Fine print small like ant legs, still it carried a crane Masters gone, name still there, but the rent took the fame Label servers shut down, suddenly “access” is a myth One switch in a boardroom and your whole past gets clipped They call it “pipeline,” I call it a single point failure I keep copies in three places, that’s survival behavior You can’t preach “family” then keep the vault key to yourself I watched murals peel off walls when the contract hit the shelf

Bridge

I’m the hardware wallet in the drawer, cold metal, heavy sleep I feel his thumbprint hesitate, then choose the deeper keep Paper on the desk curls up, ink dries, tries to cling He folds it like a bad memory, lets the silence ring

Verse 4

I push the contract back, palm flat, no tremor Stamp hits loud, “REJECTED,” like a judge in the chamber I tell him labels are legacy, running on rusted permission I’m shipping governance with the song, that’s the new distribution Tokenize the catalog, each master gets a gate Early supporters hold the vote, not a suit at the gate Treasury for the rollout, rules in code, clean and fair My city taught me grit, the world taught me to share

Verse 5

Friday night, sold-out room, sweat on the concrete lip Local hands in the air, while the diaspora mirrors the clip Simulcast to the holders, front row from a thousand places They vote on the next single art, same time, different faces Merch scan taps, ticket pings, every sound part of the beat Patch-cable click on the two, fan-whirr keeps it neat I’m proof you can build a world, not just chase one slot Own the rails, own the rights, watch the gate turn to rot

Outro

Click-click, fan-whirr, hear the empire breathe. One mic, one node, no one got the keys but me. Patchbay Masters, back to the first line clean. Click-click, fan-whirr, run it again.

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96 sampled loudness windows · 271 seconds. The white line follows the player; this is a local recording matched by title and duration, not a verified YouTube audio fingerprint.

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01 / The opening