Genre: dark oldschool hip-hop × street realism — 76 BPM, boom-bap drums, deep bass, piano loop, gritty male vocals)
(Mood: pain, loyalty, betrayal, survival)
⸻
[Intro – deep spoken tone]
Yeah…
Same block, same pain, just colder hearts.
Ain’t no love here — just receipts for scars.
⸻
[Verse 1 – slow, gritty flow]
I came up from the dirt, with a fin’ plan,
made myself a boss, never begged no man.
Every b* I met had a scheme inside,
sweet talk first, then she switched the vibe.
Ain’t shit clean when the money’s raw,
every deal’s paid with a hidden flaw.
You can smile, you can fake that peace,
but the block still smell like blood and greed.
(ad-lib: “that’s real…”)
⸻
[Hook – female soul sample echoing “no trust left…”]
No trust left in this game,
love and hate, they sound the same.
Every night I chase my breath,
too many lies, nothin’ left.
(repeat softly: “no trust… no trust…”)
⸻
[Verse 2 – darker tone, heavy bass]
They say don’t fall for a bitch in heels,
she’ll steal your time and your hundred bills.
She said “ride or die,” I said “prove that,”
next week she ghost — yeah, screw that.
Fuck the fame, I just need my peace,
money buys dirt, but it don’t buy sleep.
Cold streets raise me, taught my code,
real ones die young, fake ones get old.
⸻
[Bridge – beat drops, bass hum]
Shit get deep when your mind’s on edge,
trust don’t grow on a broken pledge.
She said “love,” I heard “war,”
and I ain’t playin’ that game no more.
⸻
[Final Hook – full beat return]
No trust left in this game,
love and hate, they sound the same.
Every night I chase my breath,
too many lies, nothin’ left.
(back echo: “nothin’ left…”)
Yeah… just pain and a paycheck, that’s what’s left.
⸻
[Outro – slow fade, voice low]
Yeah…
Money, lust, fake friends, all blend —
same shit, just a different end.
Tysonmyson
