[Intro] L.A.—take the mask off. Count the cost. Look at what you built. [Verse 1] Neon bleeds red through the smog on the glass, Palm trees pose while the poor walk past. Hollywood promised a throne and a name, Sold you a script, then repossessed the frame. Sunset Boulevard, where the bright signs lie, Gold turns brown when the rent comes by. They put a price on your face, your voice, your soul, Then leave you outside when they swallow the whole. You came with a suitcase, a plan, and a prayer, They handed you contracts with teeth in the care. One signature deep and the trapdoor swings, Now you owe for the dream and the dream owns everything. Boardroom wolves in their custom-made wool, Talk about hustle while the shelves stay full. They point at the numbers, say, “That’s just the game,” Then wash their hands clean and outsource the blame. [Pre-Chorus] Who gets the keys? Who gets the bill? Who gets the view from the top of the hill? They call it success when the damage is done— Smile for the picture. The camera’s on. [Chorus] Oh, L.A., pretty blade with a polished edge, You build your towers on a broken pledge. Fraud in the boardroom, hunger in the street, They lock the doors, then blame the feet. Nobody deserves to be crushed for their greed, Chewed up, cast out, denied what they need. Wolves wear silk while the whole town bleeds— You take, take, take, then call it a dream. [Verse 2] Ink dries black like a bruise on the page, You sign for a chance, they collect your wage. Tailored suit, dead eyes, practiced concern, They strip the last inch, then ask what you learned. Midnight train, tired hands, folded coat, Whole life balanced on a half-paid note. Someone’s kid trying to sleep through the noise, While a gate swings shut for the gated choice. This isn’t bad luck; it’s a rigged-up design, A velvet rope drawn around the finish line. They make you compete for a place to survive, Then sell you the ladder they kicked out behind. The house takes a cut every time you fall, They own the table, the chips, and the hall. No saint in the skyline, no rescue in sight, So we name every hand that keeps tightening the vice. [Chorus] Oh, L.A., pretty blade with a polished edge, You build your towers on a broken pledge. Fraud in the boardroom, hunger in the street, They lock the doors, then blame the feet. Nobody deserves to be crushed for their greed, Chewed up, cast out, denied what they need. Wolves wear silk while the whole town bleeds— You take, take, take, then call it a dream. [Verse 3] I see the night-shift worker with the split thumb raw, The mother doing sums on a kitchen drawer. The kid with a backpack and nowhere to go, The old man still waiting for a check that’s slow. They’re not your backdrop, not props in a frame, Not a line in a report you can bury by name. You can bury the number, you can bury the file, But you can’t call it justice with a camera-ready smile. You sold us the future in a glass-front room, Then charged admission while the walls closed in. You made every breath into rent and a fee, Then blamed every soul that couldn’t break free. I don’t want your slogan, your soft-focus spin, I want what you took and the truth brought in. No more clean hands while the wreckage stays— We remember the faces you erased from the page. [Bridge] This isn’t one city. It’s a cold-blooded trade, Human lives priced and quietly weighed. We are not numbers you bury in charts, Not disposable names, not broken parts. For every ignored voice, for every locked door, We keep the record. We ask for more. You made this machine; you can answer for what it does. No crown, no contract can silence us. [Breakdown] No more masks. No more “that’s how it goes.” No more turning a wound into somebody’s growth. Look at the cost. Look at the names. The ones left outside remember the game. [Final Chorus] Oh, L.A., pretty blade with a polished edge, You built your towers on a broken pledge. Fraud in the boardroom, hunger in the street, You lock the doors, then blame the feet. Nobody deserves to be crushed for your greed, Chewed up, cast out, denied what they need. Wolves wear silk while the whole town bleeds— You take, take, take, but we see what you feed. [Outro] Hold tight to the truth when the bright signs lie, Ask who gets paid when the hopes run dry. No life is worth less than the gold in your hand. We deserve peace—this is more than a demand. We deserve peace. Let the truth cut through the haze.
