breaking these chains

DON'T SLEEP TORONTO

SONG OWNEN BY CICI LURDES OLIVEIRA WRITTEN LYRICS BY CICI LURDES OLIVEIRA EDITOR BY CICI LURDES OLIVEIRA PRODUCED BY CICI LURDES OLIVEIRA PRODUCTIONS BY CICI LURDES OLIVEIRA PRODUCED BY CICI LURDES ARTIST NAME NORTHSIDESOCIALMEDIAMUSICSPRODUCTIONS STAGE NAME CICI ROYALE  [Verse] Yeah, it's the routine, the usual play [Ad-libs: Uh huh!] Bang on these blocks, get it every day. Concrete pulse, where the paper chase resides, Boss bitch blueprints, ain't no place to hide. No time for the fakes, no space for the weak, Every single movement, a power streak. [Build-up] They thought they could stop me, that's a damn lie, Still in the hustle, reaching for the sky. From time to time, yeah, I still make a move, The grind ain't a choice, it's the rhythm I groove. Unstoppable force, a relentless stride, My own damn destiny, nowhere to hide. [Drop] Left 'em in the dust, still banging out routes, Cash route baby, no room for doubts. Don't give a damn 'bout who's on the pole, My focus is stacking, taking full control. Every dollar flipped, a new level unlocked, My empire's rising, never to be blocked. [Trap Break] Head above water, watch me navigate, Toronto's calling, sealing my fate. This ain't no game, this ain't no facade, Just a boss chick building her own citadel, god! They watch from the sidelines, confused and enraged, But this ain't their story, it's my stage. [Switch-Up] Mandem talking, lost in their own haze, Too busy tripping, caught in a daze. Hustle through suburbs, like it ain't a thing, The next stop is power, the cash bells will ring. From the corners to the penthouse, the vision is clear, Conquering territories, banishing fear. [Freestyle] Money talks loud, bullshit takes a hike, Running my business, no time for a strike. Shenanigans? Please, that's not in my book, Too busy ignoring every sideways look. Fuck what they think, cause I'm bigger, I'm better, Period, bottom line, ain't no need for a letter. [Key Change] They want to tap out? Want to pull out the strap? [Sound FX: Gun cocking, then a sharp, metallic 'BANG'] Click bang! Close that trap! Ain't no loyalty here, just survival and grit, If you ain't with the money, you just ain't legit. My territory, my rules, yeah, I draw the line, Watch me rise above, watch me truly shine.Yeah, click bang... no giving a fuck. Just figures... The grind never stops... Empress...

breaking these chains

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HEADLESS PURSUIT SHADOWS OF THE HORSEMAN

A young woman with long blonde hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, white sneakers, runs frantically through a dark, dense forest path, glancing over her shoulder in terror. Her breath is ragged, leaves crunch underfoot. The camera tracks her from behind, slightly above, maintaining a sense of urgency. Low-angle shot of a large, dark horse's legs, heavily cloaked, stomping restlessly on fallen leaves. The sounds of heavy, agitated breathing from the horse. Camera slowly pans up slightly, keeping the focus on the lower body. A young woman with long blonde hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, white sneakers, cautiously peers through dense, dark bushes. Her eyes are wide with apprehension. Soft rustling of leaves and distant, strained horse sounds. Camera remains static, focusing on her tense expression. Extreme close-up on the young woman's wide, fearful eyes. Her pupils are dilated, reflecting a dim, unknown light source. Her breathing is shallow and quick. A sharp, unsettling crack of a twig nearby. Camera holds steady, emphasizing her terror. Through a gap in thick, dark foliage, a silhouette of a tall, imposing figure on horseback. The figure is clearly headless, cloaked, and holding something that glints darkly. The horse shifts uneasily. A chilling, guttural neigh. Camera is slightly shaky, as if seen from hiding A young woman with long blonde hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, white sneakers, runs frantically through a dark, dense forest path, glancing over her shoulder in terror. Her breath is ragged, leaves crunch underfoot. The camera tracks her from behind, slightly above, maintaining a sense of urgency An old, rustic general store at the edge of a dark, quiet road. A single, warm light glows from a front window, casting a faint, inviting glow into the deepening twilight. The wind whistles softly around the building. Camera slowly pushes in towards the store Close-up on a dusty, leather-bound book with intricate, faded gold lettering on a wooden shelf in the general store. The pages are yellowed and brittle. A faint, almost imperceptible whisper seems to emanate from the book. Camera slowly zooms in on the book's ancient details. From behind a young woman with long blonde hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, white sneakers, looking towards an older, weathered store owner standing behind a wooden counter. The owner speaks with a grave expression, gesturing slowly. The ambient hum of an old refrigerator, the creak of floorboards. Camera is static, observing the interaction