Cold wind through the projects...
They pray for rain, but the drought live in they veins. This the asphalt gospel — learn it or get slain [Verse]
I was born in a storm, mama screamed, thunder clapped. First crib was a stairwell, first blanket was a gat. Poppa taught me two things: count cash, count days 'Cause time and a snitch both slip away. By twelve I knew the block like the back of my scars Bent street signs spell names of the dead on these boulevards. I built a empire outta whispers and threats. Silk curtains in the trap, but the floors still wet. Ran a house of smoke and mirrors — every girl got a dream I rent. Tell 'em "love" while I tax every breath that they spent.No romance in this — just a rent-due dance Every door I knock on got a loaded answer [loop] This the asphalt gospel, written red on the curb. Blessed by the barrel, cursed by the word. No heaven for the heartless, no peace for the paid. We baptize in gasoline, watch the block get saved. Asphalt gospel. say it with your chest out Either crown or coffin ain’t no way about [Vers]
Midnight auctions, black leather seats
Broken halos counting money under flickering streets. I wear my sins like a mink, heavy on my shoulders. Young boys wanna be king, never seen the boulders. Fed the block, but the block don’t love back It just remember who fed it when the food go black. Rivals send doves, but the wings lined with blades. Truce talks at gunpoint, peace treaty in graves. I keep a judge in my pocket, but he don’t use a gavel. His verdict come in brass, and it don’t need a label. Cutthroat capitalism, CP Time for war. If the plug get light, we’ll burn down the store [Bridge]
Choir humming under sirens
All my saints got indictments, all my angels got prices. Every halo I see rusted, every vice got devices. Mama said “boy, you gon’ die for that chain” I said “Mama, I already did — I just forgot the pain” Blood on the money don’t wash off in the sink. It just dye your hands so you remember what you think [Vers]
Feds in the shadows with cameras for eyes. I feed ‘em static, let the paperwork die. Changed my name three times, city stayed the same. Every alley know my face, but the tombstones spell it wrong. Girls turned ghosts when the lights get low I tell myself it’s business, but the mirrors tell me “no” But the crown’s too heavy now to give it to the grave up. Final scene: black car, no plates, engine warm. Either ride to the throne or ride to the storm. If I don’t come back, let the block hear the verse. I was king of the concrete — for better or worse [Hook x2]
This the asphalt gospel, written red on the curb. Blessed by the barrel, cursed by the word. No heaven for the devil, no peace for the paid. We baptize in gasoline, watch the block get saved. Asphalt gospel — say it with your chest out Either crown or coffin — ain’t no way about [Outro]
Footsteps fading, police radio crackles
They’ll call it murder, I’ll call it merit
In the churc
MAC Cracker. 
