[Intro – quiet piano / vinyl crackle] Yeah… This that side talk. Names on paperwork… Still outside though. Funny how the loudest ones Always got the shortest stays. ⸻ [Verse 1 – beat drops] Don Ash Sr… trench coat, thin grin, Always catch a lil’ charge then he back again. Little county vacation, couple nights disappear, Next week on the same block like he never left here. Same old corner, same smoke in the air, Whole crew fade out when the squad car there. Jeff Horlock fake hard, loud bark in the street, Never did a real bid, just a weekend retreat. Short stay in a cell then he back in the sun, Somebody fed the law—funny how they run. They whisper “he solid,” they swear he cold, But the streets read different when the stories get told. Allowed in the circle where the real ones choke smoke, But the code start coughing every time they joke. Too clean with the cases, too light with the fines, Like somebody upstairs keep cutting the time. ⸻ [Chorus – heavy hook] They walk among the woke… The real… the code… Low-life rat snitches still playin’ they role. Short lil’ jail trip then they back in the zone, Don Ash… Jeff H… talkin’ tough on the phone. They walk among the woke… The real… the code… Informers to the opps still dressed like they bold. Whole hood side-eye every time they stroll, We know… we know… we know. ⸻ [Verse 2 – darker beat variation] Seen Don at the bar telling war-zone stories, Paper-thin alibis, none of the glory. Everybody got scars from the nights we slid, He got none—but swear he did what we did. Jeff love court dates, fresh cut, clean fade, Laughin’ in the hallway like the lawyer prepaid. Judge hit him light—just a wrist tap fine, Meanwhile homie caught decades off the same damn line. Code say quiet, they loud in the room, Treat the station like a stage telling tales with perfume. Act like soldiers when the streetlights glow, But the paperwork louder than the lies they show. Smile for the cameras, shake hands with the crew, But the file in the drawer tell a different truth. Ink on the pages don’t lie when it’s read… And ink never forget what a man once said. ⸻ [Chorus – louder] They walk among the woke… The real… the code… Low-life rat snitches still playin’ they role. Short lil’ jail trip then they back in the zone, Don Ash… Jeff H… talkin’ tough on the phone. They walk among the woke… The real… the code… Informers to the opps still dressed like they bold. Whole hood side-eye every time they stroll, We know… we know… we know. ⸻ [Bridge – beat stripped / low voice] Low register: If you ever wonder why the hammer never fall… Why the time so small when the crime stand tall… Check the files… check the faces in the hall… Names in the margins writing deals on the wall. Crescendo: They stand where the solid ones stood… Smile where the loyal ones should… But the truth seep slow through the neighborhood… And once it hit—it never leave for good. ⸻ [Verse 3 – aggressive closing verse] See the streets got memory long as the night, Every whisper travel farther than the sound of a fight. You can play tough roles, wear the mask real tight, But the ink in them folders bring the truth to the light. Fake kings walk tall till the rumors ignite, Then the same loud voice start ducking the mic. Funny how courage fade when the truth get close, And the loudest wolf always hiding the most. They mingle with the real like they part of the throne, But the room turn cold when the rumors get known. You can talk all day, swear the code your home… But paperwork ghosts always haunt their own. ⸻ [Outro – cinematic fade] Yeah… Streets don’t shout… They remember. Every name. Every case. Every quiet little deal. And sooner or later… The truth walk back through the door. Beat fades… distant siren… vinyl crackle.
