Bonkaz - We Run The Block (Clean Edit)

[Verse]
Thoughts ricochet, sharper than a razor's jaw
Words cut deep, leave 'em raw, no gauze
High-speed chase, syllables in overdrive
Heartbeat syncs with the kick, I'm alive

Night crawlin', neon drippin' off the walls
Ego doin' cartwheels, tryna dodge the falls
Mind's a vault, secrets locked, key snapped
Sharp hi-hats tap, rhythm never capped

[Chorus]
Spitfire sparks, every bar ignites
Flames in my throat, burnin' through the night
Fast lane flow, can't slow this ride
Spitfire sparks, can't dim my light

[Verse 2]
Breath's a drumroll, tongue a match to the wick
Thoughts flicker like strobes, can't pick which stick
World spins fast, faster than my pen bleeds
Grindin' gears, plantin' rhythm like seeds

Swallow the beat, exhale smoke and mirrors
Future too loud, past just whispers
Roll the dice, every word a gamble
Sharp edges, life's a game I dismantle

[Bridge]
Hi-hats slice through the noise, surgical precision
Words so fast, they blur the vision
Clocks melt, time can't catch my drift
Every line a gift, every pause a rift

Spitfire Sparks

Aesthetics official audio single
Lyrics/raps: Outsider404
Beat: prod.Trulife
Mix/master: ATM Beatz
Recorded: Orbit studio
Artwork design: Tomcats design

AESTHETICS

OUTSIDER404 - AESTHETICS | Prod.TRULIFE

Cold Math is a ledger you can feel in your ribs: tracks where melodic rap carries the hard arithmetic of survival, and blues pours the emotion that numbers can’t hold. The album lives in that split-second math of the street—rent due, phone dead, hunger loud—where every choice has interest and every mistake compounds. Over sirens, neon, and concrete sermons, the hooks arrive like oxygen: not pretty, not polite, but honest enough to keep the chest moving. This is music about being “boxed in, cornered by design,” and still finding a way to stand ten toes down without turning your soul into spare change.

But the “cold” in Cold Math isn’t just the world—it’s the clarity you earn when you stop bargaining with reality. Across these songs, the narrator evolves from counting losses to balancing the ledger: looking around at a pixelated life, owning contradictions, cutting doubt out like a bad wire, and building a ladder out of the void one bar at a time. The blues shows up as bruised tenderness under the grit; the rap shows up as precision and nerve—proof that persistence isn’t flex culture, it’s breathwork. If there’s a thesis here, it’s simple and relentless: not survival of the fittest—just the struggle for existence, and the refusal to be erased.

Too Much on the Line (B-Side)

Cass STP Freestyles over Chip & Stormy's Hear Dis Freestyle! 

Cass STP - Stormzy & Chip - Hear Dis 3Style @CassperSTP

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Bonkaz - We Run The Block (Clean Edit)

Red Essential

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