

Prompt / Lyrics
[Verse 1] Australia Parklea correction Cold floor, steel door, no connection No family phone calls, that hurt deep Count time slow when the nights won't sleep Cold courts tryna play games with my name Cops tryna mess my files up, all the same Visa gone, now the air feel thin I been boxed in since they brought me in [Pre-Chorus] Prison time getting longer My head getting stronger They want me folded But I stay bold in it Paperwork lies I can see through the skin [Chorus] Parklea files, Parklea files They kept on stretching my time Parklea files, Parklea files But I won't lose my mind Visa gone, still I stand Cold steel on my hands Parklea files, Parklea files I fight through the grime [Verse 2] Rap sheet long, yeah, line after line Every fight I had, they pin it to mine Angry rap when I step to the page Like a cage got a pulse and it's feeding my rage They twist up facts, then they call it truth I had to learn how to breathe in the proof No soft talk, I came up hard Every locked gate left a mark on my scars [Bridge] If you hear me, tell 'em I said I am still here, not dead Not the sum of their lies Not the file they fed [Chorus] Parklea files, Parklea files They kept on stretching my time Parklea files, Parklea files But I won't lose my mind Visa gone, still I stand Cold steel on my hands Parklea files, Parklea files I fight through the grime
Tags
Australian drill rap at a tense mid-tempo with grimy half-time drums, elastic bass slides, and clipped hi-hat triplets; verse rides sparse with cold-room ambience and dry snare snaps, pre-chorus tightens into rising synth pressure, chorus hits with gang shouts, doubled hook lines, and a snapped call-and-response. Vocal is close-mic, gritty, and urgent with ad-lib panning, delay throws on end words, and a few whispered tag-ins. Ear candy: barred-door clangs, reversed swell into hooks, radio-static fragments. Mix is dark, punchy, and claustrophobic., rap
2:10
No
4/22/2026