Prompt / Lyrics
[Intro] Parklea yard Cold air, hot heads (Yeah) Seven-three, three-three, six-one [Verse 1] Did my time in Parklea Cold floor, steel frame Number on my chest, not a damn name 733361 stamped on the chain Real ones round me, not internet fame Mongols in the corner playin' card games Rebels on the rail talkin' old flames Hells Angels at the table, same rage, same gaze Whole wing buzzin' like a wasp cage Every arm inked, every neck marked Tatts climbin' up to the scalp, real dark Teardrops tellin' stories that the files can't chart You can smell what they done, it don't wash off the heart Shanks in the lunch line, eyes on the guards Laughin' at the screws, they ain't givin' no pard You either stand tall or you fold like cards I learned how to move with the killers and sharks [Chorus] Parklea correction, that concrete soul 733361, that number cold Locked up with the riders, the stories they hold Tatted from the forehead down to the soles Parklea correction, that concrete soul 733361, that number cold Real gangsters round me, hearts carved in stone You can hear that anger in my tone (yeah) [Verse 2] Yard time short, but the beef run long One wrong look and your face get drawn Steel in the sock, boys ready from dawn You either swing first or you don't last long Saw lifers laugh at the fresh new kids Said "welcome to the cage where regret digs" You can pray to the sky, but the roof too big Only thing that really talks is the life you lived 187 on they mind, see it in they stare Some done the work, some just wearin' the air Either way, every single one prepared They don't brag, they just sit there, ice cold chairs I kept my back to the wall, ears open Counted up the days like chips I was holdin' Swore on my name when that gate swung open If I come back, it's 'cause the world stayed broken (ayy) [Chorus] Parklea correction, that concrete soul 733361, that number cold Locked up with the riders, the stories they hold Tatted from the forehead down to the soles Parklea correction, that concrete soul 733361, that number cold Real gangsters round me, hearts carved in stone You can hear that anger in my tone (let 'em know) [Bridge] Steel doors slam, that echo still rings (still rings) Voices in my head from the pod still sing (still sing) You ain't from here, you don't know that sting When a number on your chest mean more than your skin (more than your skin) [Chorus] Parklea correction, that concrete soul 733361, that number cold Locked up with the riders, the stories they hold Tatted from the forehead down to the soles Parklea correction, that concrete soul 733361, that number cold Real gangsters round me, hearts carved in stone You can hear that anger in my tone (Parklea)
Tags
rap, Aggressive Australian gangsta rap, male vocals; dark detuned bells over a sinister trap bounce, sub-heavy bass, sharp snare and short choir stabs. Verses tight and venomous, hook shouted like a yard chant with stacked gang vocals and ad-libs; brief filtered drop before final chorus for extra impact.
Duration
3:33
Instrumental
No
Created
2/10/2026