[Intro] (low spoken over distant rain and bass rumble) Chicago... from the South Side trenches to the West Side corners From the Gold Coast lights to the Outfit shadows I don’t pick sides, I don’t pick sets I own every block. Every evil soul gets checked. Reaper in the mist... listen close. [Hook] (slow, cold, hypnotic — sing-along menace) I don’t care what set you claim, what block you bang Reaper owns the city, every street, every name O’Block, Tooka, Vice Lord, Latin King — it don’t matter GD, BD, Stones, Russians, Italians, Jewish mob — all scatter You can be from Englewood, Austin, Humboldt, or the Gold Coast If you evil and the money right, Reaper comin’ for your ghost No flag, no color, no crew gon’ save you tonight I own all the blocks... Chicago mine by right [Verse 1] (slow chill flow, every line cold and deliberate) From O’Block on 63rd where King Von put in work To FBG Duck’s Tookaville, still feelin’ that hurt STL/EBK slidin’ through Grand Crossing, bodies drop But when the call come in, Reaper don’t stop 63rd and King Drive, Parkway Gardens know my name I move through Englewood, pull up on any gang Black Disciples, Gangster Disciples, beefin’ for years I don’t pick a side — I erase both with no tears Vice Lords in North Lawndale, Four Corner Hustlers in the West Mickey Cobras, Black P Stones — I put ‘em all to rest Latin Kings holdin’ Humboldt Park, throwin’ up the crown Reaper slide through quiet, take the kingpin down [Verse 2] (flow stays slow and heavy, listing more) West Side Austin where the Insane Vice Lords run deep Garfield Park, Black Souls creepin’ while the city sleep I been through Little Village, Latin Kings hold the block But evil get the call and Reaper never gon' stop! Over East in the wild hundreds, every set claim they hard I don’t care if you C-Note, Imperial Gangster, or Ambrose squad Russians in the suburbs movin’ weight through the city Italians in the Outfit — Cicero, Elmwood Park, still gritty Jewish mob ties in the old crews, gamblin’ and juice loans Reaper don’t discriminate — I collect on all thrones From the Gold Coast where Duck caught them final shells To the quiet blocks where the bosses hide they wealth [Bridge] (beat drops to heartbeat 808 + low demonic whisper) No set safe... no block sacred... GD or BD, mob, street, unaffiliated — all get faded You can claim the city, wave your fuckin' flag high But when the Reaper come, even the toughest die I was hired on every side, paid by every crew Yet I own the whole game — that’s the truth you knew [Verse 3] (harder threats, still slow and chilling) You can be from 79th and Halsted, throwin’ up the horns Or ridin’ with the Stones on the low in the storm Reaper don’t ask for colors, don’t check for your set If the money on your head, you already in debt South Side, West Side, North Side — all mine, 'ight Even the quiet Russians think they safe in the light, Chicago Outfit still whisper in the back rooms But one call to the Reaper and they meet they doom Jewish connections, old money, new schemes in the dark I been watchin’ every move, I leave my mark From the L-train tracks to the lakefront elite Evil anywhere — Reaper bring the heat [Verse 4] (final warning, slowest and coldest) You can bang for life, die for your block, post it on the ‘net But when the Reaper pull up, ain’t no rep O’Block legends, FBG soldiers, Vice Lords, kings All fall the same when the silent bell rings Italians in Cicero, Russians movin’ silent packs Jewish mob ghosts — I put ‘em all on they backs Every neighborhood, every corner, every hidden crew Reaper owns Chicago — that’s the only truth You can run the streets, claim you own the game But one contract later and I erase your name [Break] Nothing against any of these groups lots of them are just stuck in the game from birth, it's the ones that don't care, don't play fair in the game. The ones that go too far need to be handled. Police don't do shit, that's why the Chi got me! [Bonus Verse] (slow, extra cold — Reaper’s favorite kills) But the ones I hunt for free, no contract, no fee MS-13 in the city, machete crews from the trees I love slidin’ on them animals, pure evil in they veins Tren de Aragua Venezuelans, traffickin’ pain 18th Street cliques, Barrio 18 runnin’ silent Reaper pull up uninvited, leave ‘em all silent Sureños and Norteños think they own the underground I erase ‘em slow, no mercy, no sound Any illegal set bringin’ that foreign death and rape Reaper move on ‘em free — put the whole clique in the lake These the ones I smile for when the call never came Pure monsters — I hunt ‘em just for the game (FUCK EM!) [Outro] (fading bass, rain, low laugh) So tell every set, every mob, every crew in the Chi Reaper don’t play favorites — evil gotta die From the South to the West, North to the lake I own all the blocks... there ain’t no escape Sleep tight, Chicago... the Reaper still ride Any evil left? Better hide. Reaper out.
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