Encrypted Steps (Man Lost the Map) (Remix)

UK drill, grime, horror-leaning dark trap (cinematic horror sound design)

[Intro:]  
[Ad-libs:] “Yeh fam… road ting… real badman…”  
Cold nights, block tense, hood up when the sirens hit.  
Man’s focused… [pause] …nah for real though.

---

[Verse 1:]
Unidentified figure, stepped through estates where the streetlights fade,  
Shoreditch dreams but I’m stuck in ends, took the bus ‘cause the whip ain’t paid.  
Burner phone? Nah bruv, it’s a cracked screen Nokia, still moves weight.  
Try call bro, no signal — man still whisper “Stay sharp, it’s bait.”

Got surgical with decisions made,  
Cut ties just to stay alive.  
Talked like a wolf on socials,  
But real wolves move when the pressure’s high.  
Camouflage jacket, blade in the lining?  
Nah — just trauma I keep disguising.  
Fog rolled in, thought it was danger —  
Turns out bruv, it was stress I’m fighting.

---

[Chorus:]
Encrypted steps, man lost the map,  
[Ad-libs:] “Bruv where we at?!”  
No trace, no breath, but I’m breathing hard, fam.  
[Ad-libs:] “Asthma pump, init.”  
Borough don’t speak, but the streets talk loud,  
[Ad-libs:] “Get home now!” echo through the crowd.  
Blade took flight — in my head, not real,  
Just flashbacks when I’m skipping a meal.

---

[Verse 2:]
Unacknowledged by the feds, thank God,  
‘Cause the roads don’t care who you are, just scars.  
Old heads whisper like ravens in packs —  
Nah, they just warn man “Don’t slip, stay sharp.”

Every alley got a story coded,  
Mine got pain, but I still stay loaded.  
Try parade through postcodes hard,  
But I’m more like truth told late in bars.  
Instrumental in the downfall?  
Maybe — life hit harder than a man-made war.  
Weight of the blade in my palm enthralls?  
Nah bruv — it’s the weight of the life I saw.

Civilian? Product of trauma?  
Yeah — mum said “Fix your path, go farther.”  
Disappear in the mist like Sicilian dons —  
But the mist was tears when the nights felt long.

---

[Outro:]
[Ad-libs:] “Real roadman ting, yeh? Serious guy, trust me…”  
Man vanished in the greys…  
Uber cancelled, had to walk halfway.  
Sky won’t chill, pavement cold,  
But my mum still text: “Bring milk from the store.”  
Badman? Nah… just a young lad  
with a heavy past and a dream too mad.

2171/7500

[Intro:] [Ad-libs:] “Yeh fam… road ting… real badman…” Cold nights, block tense, hood up when the sirens hit. Man’s focused… [pause] …nah for real though. --- [Verse 1:] Unidentified figure, stepped through estates where the streetlights fade, Shoreditch dreams but I’m stuck in ends, took the bus ‘cause the whip ain’t paid. Burner phone? Nah bruv, it’s a cracked screen Nokia, still moves weight. Try call bro, no signal — man still whisper “Stay sharp, it’s bait.” Got surgical with decisions made, Cut ties just to stay alive. Talked like a wolf on socials, But real wolves move when the pressure’s high. Camouflage jacket, blade in the lining? Nah — just trauma I keep disguising. Fog rolled in, thought it was danger — Turns out bruv, it was stress I’m fighting. --- [Chorus:] Encrypted steps, man lost the map, [Ad-libs:] “Bruv where we at?!” No trace, no breath, but I’m breathing hard, fam. [Ad-libs:] “Asthma pump, init.” Borough don’t speak, but the streets talk loud, [Ad-libs:] “Get home now!” echo through the crowd. Blade took flight — in my head, not real, Just flashbacks when I’m skipping a meal. --- [Verse 2:] Unacknowledged by the feds, thank God, ‘Cause the roads don’t care who you are, just scars. Old heads whisper like ravens in packs — Nah, they just warn man “Don’t slip, stay sharp.” Every alley got a story coded, Mine got pain, but I still stay loaded. Try parade through postcodes hard, But I’m more like truth told late in bars. Instrumental in the downfall? Maybe — life hit harder than a man-made war. Weight of the blade in my palm enthralls? Nah bruv — it’s the weight of the life I saw. Civilian? Product of trauma? Yeah — mum said “Fix your path, go farther.” Disappear in the mist like Sicilian dons — But the mist was tears when the nights felt long. --- [Outro:] [Ad-libs:] “Real roadman ting, yeh? Serious guy, trust me…” Man vanished in the greys… Uber cancelled, had to walk halfway. Sky won’t chill, pavement cold, But my mum still text: “Bring milk from the store.” Badman? Nah… just a young lad with a heavy past and a dream too mad.

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