**Title: "North West Summer Nights"**
**Artist: [northwest**
**Prod. by [jagga]]**
**[Intro]**
*(Dark, eerie synths fade in, drill beat drops with rattling hi-hats and bassline)*
"Cheetham Hill, y’get me? Summer nights, but we still spin wiv’ the shh…"
*(Ad-libs: "Grrt!", "Skrrt!")*
**[Verse 1]**
Summer’s lit but the ends stay cold, Feds lurk where the ice-cream vans roll,
Mum’s prayin’ I make it old, but the Glock’s tucked where the Nikes fold.
Hollow points leave a shell case story—dutty work, but it’s feedin’ the fam,
Bro’s in HMP, pen letters like “Hold the line, I’m comin’ fam, hold the ram.”
We don’t chat ‘bout the late nights, shh, silencers mute the jam,
Opps postin’ snaps, but their block’s just a GPS for the ram.
Cheetham Hill, we rep it proper, no cap, no sham,
If the sun’s out, we’re masked up, bally’s on, no gram.
**[Chorus]**
North West nights, we don’t sleep, we just ride (Ride!),
German whips, no plate, duckin’ Mersey side (Skrrt!).
Family tight, link the block, side by side (Grrt!),
If you chat slick, hollows leave a hole where pride died (Boom!).
Cheetham Hill, we don’t fold, we survive,
HMP soldiers, still mobbin’ through the 9-to-5,
Summer breeze? Nah, it’s Glock smoke in the skies,
Rep the NW ‘til the casket closes my eyes.
**[Verse 2]**
Moss Side to Salford, it’s the same old drill,
Bro lost his J’s to a cell, now he’s buildin’ his skill.
Mum’s cryin’ “Come home!”, but the streets got a will,
We don’t chase sun—we chase P’s, keep the grip on the steel.
Nank’s in the air, but the vibe’s cutthroat,
Opps tried sunbathin’, left ‘em red like a boat.
Friends? We’re brothers—blood, no DNA quote,
If the Feds knock, we don’t sing, we just float.
Yardman’s back, got a bag full of hope,
But the block’s still hot, gotta move like a ghost.
**[Bridge]**
*(Beat pauses, haunting piano loop)*
“You hear the birds chirp? Nah, that’s the click of a round,
Summer love? Nah, we married to the sound…
…of the streets screamin’ loud.”
**[Verse 3]**
German whip, blacked-out tints, no license, just vibes,
Audi rings colder than the ice in my Sprite.
Shh on the tool, make it quiet when it’s flight,
Opps think they’re viral—nah, we ghostwrite their life.
HMP bro’s got a list when he lands,
Told him “Chill!”, but he’s drillin’ his plans.
Mum’s garden’s rosy, but the roses got brands,
Where the petals drop, that’s where we plant hands.
Cheetham Hill, where the loyal don’t bend,
Summer flings? Nah, we wife the .9 ‘til the end.
**[Chorus]**
North West nights, we don’t sleep, we just ride (Ride!),
German whips, no plate, duckin’ Mersey side (Skrrt!).
Family tight, link the block, side by side (Grrt!),
If you chat slick, hollows leave a hole where pride died (Boom!).
Cheetham Hill, we don’t fold, we survive,
HMP soldiers, still mobbin’ through the 9-to-5,
Summer breeze? Nah, it’s Glock smoke in the skies,
Rep the NW ‘til
dJJIMMYS247
