Streets Write History

rap hard rock, alternative rap rock, 90s alt rock

+ Show full styles

spoken words INTRO
Sit back, breathe slow, just don’t laugh too loud—
’Cause this could be your girl, or you trapped in the crowd.
You think you’re immune? Think again, it’s a fact.
What makes you so safe when the track starts to crack?
VERSE 1
Another Saturday night, heavy standard in play,
Friday was an ex-factor, Saturday’s paid.
Brought your girl and her bestie—straight facts, no cap,
No lies, no games, Sunday sealed up the trap.
Called in my lady, brought her main standard too,
Smokey L.A. summer night, that’s just how we do.
The ignition struck quick, chaos took flight,
Earning elite miles on a mile-high night.
From Pacific coast lights clear to Tokyo street,
Living Greek mythology, loud gas, Freaknik heat.
Except here’s the punchline—sharp, direct, and true:
The guest list was closed, and the door closed on you.
HOOK
Multiply my presence by four, see what hits the floor—
It don't split to two! (You got jokes? Joke's on you!)
Heavyweight truth, no sweet cereal proof—
No flinch, no games, high up on the roof.
CHORUS
You got jokes? Cool down, before the laugh turns around.
Big facts—I take your shine, flip the script, clear the ground.
Had the whole block humming, neon lights burning strong,
Red Rocks on the echo, but the heat raged all night long.
Gave the city a wave that set sprinklers off,
Dove deep into the dark off the highest cliff drop.
Ten times over, every layer explored,
Popping tags off a life that you couldn't afford.
Did more than pull up—I toe-tagged the space,
Unclipped the wild chaos, let it run out of place.
It never came back? Don’t blame me for the trace,
Just my initials stamped deep in the pulse of the place.
Hot damn—you got jokes, but the room’s out of air.
I only tell half the truth, 'cause the full one ain't fair.
VERSE 2
Picture her like Alice, lost deep in my zone,
Chasing white rabbits through velvet and chrome.
Down the rabbit hole deep, where the floor starts to reel:
Snap, crackle, and pop—now you know how I feel.
Tagged with my mark on her neck and her thigh,
No room for fake actors, she gotta pass by.
And she did what she had to—she stepped to the test,
Standing near isn't enough, I demand only best.
If she slips on the play, I’ll pivot on air,
Like a star down in Denver, or a New York square.
Serving millions daily with no delay front—
Drive-thru or delivery, she gets what she wants.
Granting raw wishes—call her Genie in denim,
Her stamp reads: "Go hard, go crazy, no limit."
VERSE 3
I’m the blackout grid humming when the city feels fear,
You the flicker in a bulb that dies twice a year. (gone)
I’m the forged-iron heartbeat under asphalt street,
You the chalk outline fading when it rains in the heat. (wash 'em)
I’m the Front Range summit—history carved in my tone,
You the tourist on the peak trying to snap up my zone. (nah)
I’m the RTD screaming when the pressure gets real,
You the loose screw rattling on a rusted-out wheel. (shake!)
I’m the wall mural painted in a Five Points code,
You the cheap sticker peeling when the summer explodes. (peel off)
I’m the Incline steps climbing with a war-god’s stride,
You the bird on the sign tryna catch a free ride. (fly off)
I’m the Platte River rising when the moon gets bold,
You the snowflake melting in a storm I control. (big wave)
I’m the cracked-brick sermon every hustler repeats,
You the alleyway rumor that dissolves in the heat. (poof)
I’m the Colfax pulse—lightning stitched in my veins,
You the echo in the canyon that forgets its own name. (lost)
I’m the master blueprint in a kingpin’s coat,
You the typo in the margins no one bothers to quote. (trash)
(ADLIBS: Yeah! Tighten that up! Mile High energy! Run it back! Big flex!)
OUTRO
So laugh if you want,
But every joke you throw ricochets off the truth.
I’m the storm they whisper about in the dark,
The pulse beneath the concrete,
The mark carved deep into the grain.
You got jokes?
Cool.
But the streets write history,
And they only engrave one name.

3950/7500

spoken words INTRO Sit back, breathe slow, just don’t laugh too loud— ’Cause this could be your girl, or you trapped in the crowd. You think you’re immune? Think again, it’s a fact. What makes you so safe when the track starts to crack? VERSE 1 Another Saturday night, heavy standard in play, Friday was an ex-factor, Saturday’s paid. Brought your girl and her bestie—straight facts, no cap, No lies, no games, Sunday sealed up the trap. Called in my lady, brought her main standard too, Smokey L.A. summer night, that’s just how we do. The ignition struck quick, chaos took flight, Earning elite miles on a mile-high night. From Pacific coast lights clear to Tokyo street, Living Greek mythology, loud gas, Freaknik heat. Except here’s the punchline—sharp, direct, and true: The guest list was closed, and the door closed on you. HOOK Multiply my presence by four, see what hits the floor— It don't split to two! (You got jokes? Joke's on you!) Heavyweight truth, no sweet cereal proof— No flinch, no games, high up on the roof. CHORUS You got jokes? Cool down, before the laugh turns around. Big facts—I take your shine, flip the script, clear the ground. Had the whole block humming, neon lights burning strong, Red Rocks on the echo, but the heat raged all night long. Gave the city a wave that set sprinklers off, Dove deep into the dark off the highest cliff drop. Ten times over, every layer explored, Popping tags off a life that you couldn't afford. Did more than pull up—I toe-tagged the space, Unclipped the wild chaos, let it run out of place. It never came back? Don’t blame me for the trace, Just my initials stamped deep in the pulse of the place. Hot damn—you got jokes, but the room’s out of air. I only tell half the truth, 'cause the full one ain't fair. VERSE 2 Picture her like Alice, lost deep in my zone, Chasing white rabbits through velvet and chrome. Down the rabbit hole deep, where the floor starts to reel: Snap, crackle, and pop—now you know how I feel. Tagged with my mark on her neck and her thigh, No room for fake actors, she gotta pass by. And she did what she had to—she stepped to the test, Standing near isn't enough, I demand only best. If she slips on the play, I’ll pivot on air, Like a star down in Denver, or a New York square. Serving millions daily with no delay front— Drive-thru or delivery, she gets what she wants. Granting raw wishes—call her Genie in denim, Her stamp reads: "Go hard, go crazy, no limit." VERSE 3 I’m the blackout grid humming when the city feels fear, You the flicker in a bulb that dies twice a year. (gone) I’m the forged-iron heartbeat under asphalt street, You the chalk outline fading when it rains in the heat. (wash 'em) I’m the Front Range summit—history carved in my tone, You the tourist on the peak trying to snap up my zone. (nah) I’m the RTD screaming when the pressure gets real, You the loose screw rattling on a rusted-out wheel. (shake!) I’m the wall mural painted in a Five Points code, You the cheap sticker peeling when the summer explodes. (peel off) I’m the Incline steps climbing with a war-god’s stride, You the bird on the sign tryna catch a free ride. (fly off) I’m the Platte River rising when the moon gets bold, You the snowflake melting in a storm I control. (big wave) I’m the cracked-brick sermon every hustler repeats, You the alleyway rumor that dissolves in the heat. (poof) I’m the Colfax pulse—lightning stitched in my veins, You the echo in the canyon that forgets its own name. (lost) I’m the master blueprint in a kingpin’s coat, You the typo in the margins no one bothers to quote. (trash) (ADLIBS: Yeah! Tighten that up! Mile High energy! Run it back! Big flex!) OUTRO So laugh if you want, But every joke you throw ricochets off the truth. I’m the storm they whisper about in the dark, The pulse beneath the concrete, The mark carved deep into the grain. You got jokes? Cool. But the streets write history, And they only engrave one name.

0/500