Prompt / Lyrics
INTRO I saw a man doing a hundred-five engine screaming like it wanted out of life wind tearing all the bullshit off his face another man coughing oil in disgrace held together by duct tape and fate VERSE 1 Out on the corner, pushing fentanyl and cigarettes daily grind, boredom wicked as it gets Memorial candles flicker in the rain lightning strike the name just to prove the pain Neon buzzing, nothing hits another shift in the land of counterfeit Brotherhood hall pass, green light to whoop ass long as the handshake clean and the dues paid fast Lose your temper—alright, that’s forgiven Lose your silence? That’s when they bury you hidden PRE-HOOK Can’t keep yourself in check easy just to get in a wreck When the lodge got your back plugged straight into the crack No amount of heat get scrubbed once the ink mix thick with your blood HOOK Out on the corner, feeling nothing pushing time, pushing buttons Same old grind, same old judgment Hands look clean but the money’s blooded Out on the corner, feeling nothing Lightning waits when the crowd ain’t looking Say it loud or say it subtle Lose your silence—that’s real trouble VERSE 2 Judges, juries, and you-know-who all on retainer, all nodding for you Slinging that dope, legal or not depends on the letterhead you brought White powder, black ink both make you numb, make you not think Both keep the wheels still turning same old fire, different burning You think you hustling just to survive— nah you a delivery system alive for a god that eats consequences exhales excuses in corporate sentences PRE-HOOK Lights flash, headlines fade circle tight, deals get made No alarms, no sound everybody solid till the truth come around HOOK Out on the corner, feeling nothing pushing time, pushing buttons Same old grind, same old judgment Hands look clean but the money’s blooded Out on the corner, feeling nothing Lightning waits when the crowd ain’t looking Say it loud or say it subtle Lose your silence—that’s real trouble BRIDGE (HALF-TIME / SPOKEN) Good cop, bad cop—same script Top or bottom—same grip Different masks, same program Cold-hand oath in a closed-hand handshake VERSE 3 Can’t keep yourself in check real easy just to get in a wreck No amount of whack get you sacked no stain ever stick to the pact Once you marked, you loved once you talk, you done That’s the math written in blood That’s the law of the club OUTRO I saw a man doing a hundred-five engine screaming like it wanted out of life wind tearing the bullshit off his face another man coughing oil in disgrace held together by duct tape and fate Out on the corner.
Tags
WestCoast slow-burn: cruising bass, cinematic hooks, street-poetry realism, hypnotic flow,systemic truth wrapped 92 BPM
Duration
3:41
Instrumental
No
Created
2/1/2026