[0:00–0:13 | INTRO — SPOKEN, ALMOST EMPTY] Look… I don’t tell these stories ’cause I miss that shit. I tell ’em ‘cause some youngin think it’s a movie. It ain’t. ⸻ [0:13–0:48 | VERSE 1 — CALM, DARK POCKET] Back when the box Chevy sat tall on the blades Nextel chirpin’, white tee, Girbauds with the J’s Before Trackhawks growled and the Hellcats slid I seen grown men crash out over shit that kids did Seen a dice game turn to a crime scene quick Same dude laughing at twelve… by twelve-ten, hit And that sound don’t leave you Nah— movies got it wrong Real death ain’t cinematic The silence after is long I done seen stick-up kids put fear in a face Seen blood hit concrete then rain wash the place Seen a woman after evil couldn’t look nobody straight That’s when “street” quit sounding fly and started sounding like weight ⸻ [0:48–1:02 | REFRAIN — LOW, SPOKEN/RAPPED] Concrete ghosts… Still walk with me I got out— but some nights they still talk to me No cap in the testimony No flex in the scars I know exactly what it cost to become who we are ⸻ [1:02–1:38 | VERSE 2 — SLIGHTLY DENSER] I sold poison too Let’s keep it a buck Had motion for a minute Thought I figured shit up Till the same folks buying started looking like ghosts Good job on Monday… by summer, doing the most That’s guilt with interest It compound different Can’t put Amiri on regret and make the fit look different I done ran plays Seen fraud get clean Paperwork hit harder than a Glock with a beam Then the bid came— steel doors, count time Where your body belong to the state but your thoughts still mine Seventeen years total in them concrete seasons Seen killers quote scripture Seen good men stop believing Seen dudes built like tanks get cooked by a sentence Seen one bad night turn decades into minutes So when young blood tell me he ready to spin— I don’t preach. I just ask him: “You ready to never come home again?” ⸻ [1:38–1:53 | REFRAIN] Concrete ghosts… Still walk with me I got out— but some nights they still talk to me No flex in the scars No lie in these bars I know exactly what it cost to become who we are ⸻ [1:53–2:15 | BRIDGE — DRUMS MOSTLY DISAPPEAR] I know what addiction smell like. Know what a cell sound like after count. Know what a mother look like trying not to cry on a visit. [pause] So don’t confuse my peace with being soft. I paid too much for it. ⸻ [2:15–2:53 | VERSE 3 — MATURE, SURGICAL] Now it’s grown-man motion Calendar full Clean kicks, tailored jacket Still know when the energy bull Might pull up corporate Talk numbers and margins But I can read a room before somebody finish walking That’s survival converted Trauma got repurposed Same eyes watched the corner Now they study the purchase Used to want foreign wheels just to stunt at the light Now I want assets that let my people sleep right Still appreciate the Porsche Still love a clean ’Rari But freedom hit different when you buried some partners Chrome Hearts can’t cover what the heart been through And a Richard Mille can’t give one lost minute back to you That’s game. Not the kind they sell online I had to lose years just to understand time So if I sound aspirational Know where it began **I ain’t speaking from above the streets— I’m speaking as a man who survived ’em.** ⸻ [2:53–3:15 | FINAL REFRAIN — WIDER, NOT TRIUMPHANT] Concrete ghosts… I remember your names Some became memories Some became flames Some still locked Some never got far So every time I speak life… I’m speaking over scars ⸻ [3:15–3:28 | OUTRO — SPOKEN] I ain’t ashamed of where I been. But I ain’t romanticizing it either. The streets gave me perspective. Getting out gave it purpose.
