[Intro]
Yeah… late-night whispers, gunpowder decisions,
Every man’s got a code, but some die in collisions.
Listen close — one-way roads, no sequel,
The block raises killers when the system hates people.
⸻
[Verse 1]
Phone buzzed at 3 AM, “yo, the package just landed,”
Grabbed the duffel, Glock tucked, every move had to be candid.
Kitchen light dim, blue flame on the stove,
Cut a brick down clean, let the powder unfold.
Youngin’ rollin’ blunts on the couch, eyes glazed,
Said, “OG, this flip put us right out the maze.”
I smirked — “ahead of what? A grave or a cell?
Every dollar that we stack got a story to tell.”
Still, the scale ticked steady, plastic gloves, no prints,
Money counter sang hymns while my soul felt tense.
Paranoia in the air, silence thick as a rope,
Even victory in the hood always balanced on hope.
⸻
[Hook]
This the life when the block don’t forgive,
Either die by the hustle or you hustle to live.
Every move that you make, every shot that you call,
Ain’t no heaven for a G, just a throne if you fall.
⸻
[Verse 2]
Car pulled up fast, headlights killed on the curb,
Masks on, guns drawn, not a whisper of words.
Door kicked — steel clapped, echo loud through the hall,
Mama crying in the kitchen, two kids on the wall.
Safe cracked in the closet, bricks, stacks, and chrome,
Greed spread like fire — homie reached for the stone.
Two shots rang, chest caved where he stood,
Blood soaking through the carpet, smell of iron in the wood.
I froze for a second, pulse bangin’ my head,
This was money on the floor, but a brother lay dead.
Duffel heavy with the cash, but my spirit felt light,
Devil whisperin’ close, “this the price of the night.”
⸻
[Hook]
This the life when the block don’t forgive,
Either die by the hustle or you hustle to live.
Every move that you make, every shot that you call,
Ain’t no heaven for a G, just a throne if you fall.
⸻
[Verse 3]
Now it’s feds on the block, friends switchin’ to rats,
Wiretaps on the phones, every deal feels like traps.
Liquor bottle half-empty, pistol under the couch,
Every knock at the door make my heartbeat shout.
Mama called, “boy, you drownin’, better pray to the Lord,”
I told her, “ain’t no church on these streets I afford.
Ain’t no scholarships here, just the corners that froze,
We either die in the struggle or survive what we chose.”
Sirens hum in the distance, sky lit by a beam,
Sip slow, load the clip, replay life in a dream.
A gangster ain’t forever, just a verse on the wind,
And the story always ends where betrayal begins.
⸻
[Outro]
Yeah… it’s chess, not checkers, and the board’s stained red,
Every king lose his crown when the war hits his head.
So if you live by the code, better count every breath —
‘Cause the streets don’t promise nothin’ but betrayal and death.
