Filthy on the Concrete

(Hook)

I’m filthy on the concrete, boots on the block heat,

’80s New York, where the neon and the nights meet.

Swagger in my walk, talk slick when I talk,

Whole city on edge like chalk on the sidewalk.

(Verse 1)

Cruisin’ down Times Square, grime in the night air,

Puddle-light reflections, street signs don’t fight fair.

Gold chain swingin’ like a pendulum clock,

I’m the king of the hustle on a busted-up block.

Jacket all leather with the collar turned high,

Boom-box bumpin’ Run-DMC as I glide by.

Sidewalk full of stories, some loud, some whispered,

Money in the atmosphere colder than December.

(Hook)

I’m filthy on the concrete, boots on the block heat,

’80s New York, where the neon and the nights meet.

Swagger in my walk, talk slick when I talk,

Whole city on edge like chalk on the sidewalk.

(Verse 2)

Every corner got a hustle, every hustle got a king,

I’m the type to make a whole avenue sing.

Lip-curl confidence, coat full of nonsense,

Streetlight glow got me shinier than ornaments.

Grit under fingernails, pockets full of game,

Everybody know the legend, everybody know the name.

I don’t play savior, I don’t play saint —

I just paint the concrete canvas with a hustler’s paint.

(Hook)

I’m filthy on the concrete, boots on the block heat,

’80s New York, where the neon and the nights meet.

Swagger in my walk, talk slick when I talk,

Whole city on edge like chalk on the sidewalk.

(Outro)

Gritty like a subway rail, loud like a cab horn,

New York born of chaos, sharp like a glass shard torn.

Filthy? Yeah, I’m filthy — but that’s the vibe of the city,

’80s night shift hustle, raw-edged and gritty.