[Verse] Midnight grease on the griddle, steam in the air, Sweat on my neck, but I’m breathing heavy, no fear. Copper coins ring, orders fly like fire, But my mind's on the stage, reaching higher. Serving eggs with a soul, fries with a beat, Every shift a step toward my dream street. The clock's a liar, says I’m stuck in the grind, But I’m building my empire—just one more time. [Pre-Chorus] Yeah, the apron’s worn, but the flame’s still bright, I’m the quiet storm under neon light. They see the kitchen, they don’t see the crown— This grind’s the fuel, I’m about to be found. [Chorus] I’m grinding on the line, but I’m chasing the sky, Every burn on my hands is a line I’ll fly. From the diner to the mic, I’m rising, I’m real, This ain’t just serving—this is my wheel. I’m building my empire on every shift, With a heart of iron and a dream that’s still swift. I’m grinding on the line—watch me rise, From the back of the house to the spotlight’s eyes. [Verse] The coffee’s bitter, but my vision’s clean, Script in my head while I'm cleaning the screen. Tired eyes, but my soul's wide awake, Every night a verse, every breath a break. I trade the silence for the shout, Turn the clatter to a sound I’ve dreamed about. They say “Stay low,” but I’m drawing the map, With every fry I fry, I’m stacking my trap. [Pre-Chorus] Yeah, the apron’s worn, but the flame’s still bright, I’m the quiet storm under neon light. They see the kitchen, they don’t see the crown— This grind’s the fuel, I’m about to be found. [Chorus] I’m grinding on the line, but I’m chasing the sky, Every burn on my hands is a line I’ll fly. From the diner to the mic, I’m rising, I’m real, This ain’t just serving—this is my wheel. I’m building my empire on every shift, With a heart of iron and a dream that’s still swift. I’m grinding on the line—watch me rise, From the back of the house to the spotlight’s eyes. [Bridge] They don’t know the words I write in the steam, The lyrics I whisper while I clean the dream. This grease-stained soul’s got a voice in the flame, And every order’s a verse I’m reclaiming. I’m the chef of my fate, the king of my lane, The one who turned the grind to a chain of fame. From the floor to the crown, I’m the name they’ll repeat— I’m the fire behind the plate, and I’m real, I’m beat. [Chorus] I’m grinding on the line, but I’m chasing the sky, Every burn on my hands is a line I’ll fly. From the diner to the mic, I’m rising, I’m real, This ain’t just serving—this is my wheel. I’m building my empire on every shift, With a heart of iron and a dream that’s still swift. I’m grinding on the line—watch me rise, From the back of the house to the spotlight’s eyes. [Outro] Yeah, the grill’s still hot, but my soul’s on stage, Every shift an anthem, every turn a page. I’m the voice in the kitchen, the light in the dark— This is my grind, and this is my spark. Mic in hand, I’m breaking the dawn, From the diner’s low to where I’m drawn. I’m grinding. I’m rising. I’m free. I’m the dream—born in the kitchen, meant to be.