Is it money , the women…. 💸 💃🏻

🙊

fukumean (slowed + reverb)

Brooklyn underground hustle in every bar. Gritty piano, street codes, and stadium hooks. Brooklyn energy made for the world.

“Brooklyn Nights” by DJ Dyablow

Lyrics
Written by Daryl Splitt
Performed by The Gring & Big Splity

[Intro]
I ain’t preachin’ from no church steps...
This from the streets, from where prayers go unheard,
Where silence is louder than screams,
Where we learned truth from pain
And still stood tall in the rain.
This ain't gospel for the saved.
It’s gospel for the ones still tryna survive.

[Hook]
This my concrete gospel, word from the street,
Every line I spit, is the truth cooked in the heat.
Preach from the pavement, no robe, no Bible 
Just pain, just flame, just hard survival.
Voices in the wind still callin’ my name,
But I rise from the gutter with pride in my veins.
They want hope? I give 'em scars that heal,
This my gospel it’s cold, cut, and very real.

[Verse]
I was baptised in the trap, raised on grit,
Never learned peace, only how to never quit.
Every saint I knew wore blood on there chest,
Every angel I seen had a strap looking sharp and at there best.
We prayed with our fists, and starv’d in droughts,
Ate pain for dinner, and dreams we went without.
I didn’t choose this life, it carved me from the struggle,
Now I’m speakin’ to the lost with a tone full of muscle.
No preacher ever came, no saviour, no hand outs,
Just the streets teachin’ hate, loyalty, and big doubts.
So when I step to the mic, it ain’t for applause 
It’s to show that redemption got cracks and claws too

[Verse]
Big bro said, “Let your silence speak loud,”
So I walk through the noise like I’m movin’ in a crowd.
No shit, no lies just truth in the rhyme,
Every bar I spit been aged in ttime. 
I seen mums raise soldiers on empty plates,
I seen funerals packed, but the love came way too late.
So I write these psalms from a place they fear
Where the mirror that shows you every loss you wear.
This is my choir: the fiends and the fighters,
The late-night grinders, the burn-out lighters.
Ain’t no saints in the streets, just ghosts with names
But I preach for ‘em still through the hunger and pain.

[Verse]
They tried to break me, but I rose like a hymn,
Carved my gospel on walls with the sharpest pen.
Every bar’s from my soul, every line from the lick,
And big smoke taught me that’s more than enough.
He taught me to honour the pain in my past,
Taught me to love my team, and make real love last.
So I speak for the ones who was never enough,
And show ‘em that strength ain’t never been tough.
This my scripture, it don’t need a crown,
It need ears in the struggle and feet on the ground.
Ain’t no priest in these streets, no collection plate
Just a lesson in pain and the price of fate.

[outro]
This is my concrete gospel, word from the street,
Every line I spit, truth cooked in the heat.
Preach from the pavement, no robe, no Bible
Just pain, just flame, just hard survival.
Voices in the wind still callin’ my name,
But I rise from the street with pride in my veins.
They want hope? I give 'em scars that heal,
This is my gospel it’s cold, cut, and very real.
No steeple, no altar just sirens concrete and rust,
No holy water just sweat in the dust.
But I still found grace in a broken street,
Turned pain to scripture, let the struggle speak.

Concrete Gospel

Resurrection

The Realist Killaz (feat. 50 Cent)

Outta Control

Outta Control (Remix) [feat. Mobb Deep]

A free track to celebrate Youth and Life. 

Sample: Endless Love 

 Spotify Album: https://open.spotify.com/album/6STwjBCu3CTEViSxJChKlV
 Apple Music: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/eternal-youth/id1268684742﻿

Bandcamp: https://rudemn.bandcamp.com/track/eternal-youth




Artwork by "J. Friaça"

J. Friaça: http://imgur.com/a/wbJjN

The Realist Killaz (feat. 50 Cent)

2Pac

Recent comments

James Velasco

Brad 50 old school🔥🔥

Joel Nicholson

Joel Nicholson

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