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Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Cold hands
Cracked lips
Corner store light hums
Kids trade pills for a handshake
Name brands for a handout
Sirens spin colors on the brick
Chalk stains that never wash
Mama praying over old bills
TV talking about some distant clash
[Chorus]
These streets
They got their own religion
Built on blood and broken glass
We live small in a giant prison
Hope keeps hiding in the trash
Street drugs
Fistfights
War on the screen
Same bruise
Just a different scene
These cold asphalt prayers we pour
Street drugs
Fights
War
[Verse 2]
He came back in desert boots
Sand still stuck in the seams
Eyes too loud for this quiet block
Carrying things he never speaks
Little bro running with a pack
Dollar dreams
Heavy schemes
Thinks a quick score is a future
Can’t see the cost in between
[Chorus]
These streets
They got their own religion
Built on blood and broken glass
We live small in a giant prison
Hope keeps hiding in the trash
Street drugs
Fistfights
War on the screen
Same bruise
Just a different scene
These cold asphalt prayers we pour
Street drugs
Fights
War
[Bridge]
Is it peace if we just feel numb? (feel numb)
Is it home if we can’t go home?
I keep writing names on the wall in my head
Hoping one day I stop adding more (oh Lord)
[Chorus]
These streets
They got their own religion
Built on blood and broken glass
We live small in a giant prison
Hope keeps hiding in the trash
Street drugs
Fistfights
War on the screen
Same bruise
Just a different scene
These cold asphalt prayers we pour
Street drugs
Fights
War
Details
GeneratedApr 6, 2026
Duration3:12
LanguageEnglish
Style
Gritty boom-bap beat with dusty drums, sparse piano stabs, and distant siren textures. Male vocals, close-mic’d, almost spoken on the verses; chorus widens with stacked, raw harmonies and a subtle gospel-choir pad. Bass stays low and tense, kick and snare punch hard. Final chorus adds extra ad-libs and distorted vocal doubles for a frayed, urgent climax.
Credits
Prompt by
jay_polderdijk
jay_polderdijkModelAria v5.5
Prompt
Streets drugs fights war
