[Verse] Concrete walls hum in the quiet, Drying sheets like ghosts in the light. My bed’s a couch on a folding frame, But my mind’s a sky with no name. I trace the cracks where the ceiling’s thin, Dreams grow roots on a dusty din. One foot in the dirt, one in the air— A poet with a laundry list to dare. [Pre-Chorus] Mic in hand, I’m a king in my crown, Spinning gold from a busted town. No crown? No problem— I wear my dreams like a jacket, Even if it’s threadbare and ragged. [Chorus] Skyscraper dreams in a room above the laundromat, Painting stars on a stained ceiling map. Every fold a bridge, every drip a beat, I’m dancing through the mess, no fear, no defeat. Skyscraper dreams from a life on the grind— Even broken glass can catch the shine. Yeah, I’m a spark in a world made of rags, Building a sky from what they cast. [Verse] Faint hum of the dryers, like a steady drone, I whisper rhymes while I fold my throne. A pair of jeans becomes a cape, A sock puppet in a midnight parade. I’m writing chapters on a chipped table, One night’s a revolution, one day’s a stable. The world says “stay,” I say “fly,” With a soul full of rhythm and a heart full of why. [Pre-Chorus] Mic in hand, I’m a king in my crown, Spinning gold from a busted town. No crown? No problem— I wear my dreams like a jacket, Even if it’s threadbare and ragged. [Chorus] Skyscraper dreams in a room above the laundromat, Painting stars on a stained ceiling map. Every fold a bridge, every drip a beat, I’m dancing through the mess, no fear, no defeat. Skyscraper dreams from a life on the grind— Even broken glass can catch the shine. Yeah, I’m a spark in a world made of rags, Building a sky from what they cast. [Bridge] They said I’d crash, said I’d fall down slow, But I’m a shadow with a golden glow. No elevator, just hope in the stairwell, Every floor I pass, I’m more than a fellow. I’m not above— I’m right here, With my head in the clouds and my feet on the gear. [Chorus] Skyscraper dreams in a room above the laundromat, Painting stars on a stained ceiling map. Every fold a bridge, every drip a beat, I’m dancing through the mess, no fear, no defeat. Skyscraper dreams from a life on the grind— Even broken glass can catch the shine. Yeah, I’m a spark in a world made of rags, Building a sky from what they cast. [Outro] Laundry hums, I’m still in my lane, Dreams don’t need a permit to climb. So when the world says “sit,” I’ll still write my name… On the sky.