Parklea Files

[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

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