The lyric "Street of Devotion" sketches a vivid portrait of loyalty forged in the fire of survival — where dedication isn’t just poetic, it’s daily, gritty, and public. It’s about showing up for those who never got a parade, holding memory in muscle, and keeping faith in the middle of the chaos.
Theme: Unwavering loyalty, lived resistance, and everyday sacredness in urban struggle
Tone: Reflective, rugged, and reverent — not sentimental, but emotionally grounded
Setting: The city becomes a sanctuary and proving ground; the street corner is both pulpit and battlefield
Message: Devotion isn’t quiet — it’s loud in the footsteps, the shout-backs, the side-eyes that speak volumes

Street Devotion #Hip Hop

Ⓒ 2025 @PlsDntChase.
All songs, beats, lyrics and recordings are protected under Australian copyright law and officially released through River Run Cartel.
Licensed for distribution with DistroKid and other major platforms.
Unauthorized use, uploads, or bootlegs will be removed and pursued.
This is real copyright, real label business—no exceptions. 🦘ᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

Liber Mortuorumᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

AbyssusAbsconditusᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

stand my ground

Holy Bible ( faisal younas feat barry mila ).mp3

Pantheon Of Ash + ᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

Verse 1 – Rich Country Rebellion
Kids in rich zones, born into chrome, But they see the grind — they feel the drone. Parents clock in, clock out, no spark, Dead-eyed dinners, joy gone dark.

They see the stress, the pills, the debt, They see the love, but it’s drowned in sweat. They ask, “Is this life? Is this the prize?” Then pour the drink, roll the lies.

They rebel not for thrill, but to escape the trap, Where dreams get traded for a corporate nap. They see their folks as slaves in suits, So they chase the buzz in pills and flutes.

Verse 2 – Broken Homes, Broken Hope
Then there’s the kids whose parents fell, Not from sin, but from the system’s hell. Too much pressure, too little rope, Now it’s crime, collapse, and dope.

Mum’s on meds, dad’s on the street, Family fractured, no food to eat. They see the grind as a death parade, Where love gets lost and hope decays.

They don’t rebel — they survive the wreck, They learn to hustle, dodge the check. They see the buzz as a ghost in smoke, And wear the trauma like a heavy cloak.

Verse 3 – Global Child Slavery
Now zoom out — kids in the global south, No Netflix, no therapy mouth. Twelve-hour shifts, landfill dives, Begging for cans just to stay alive.

No rebellion — just survival mode, Born into chains, never owed. They don’t ask “why” — they ask “how long?” Till the hunger fades or the body’s gone.

Cradle to grave, no soft escape, Just sweat and dust and twisted fate. Makes rich-kid buzzkill look like play, While they bleed for pennies every day.

🎤 Part II – The Nazified Trance
Verse 4 – The Trance of Power
This ain’t chaos — it’s design. A species trapped in a profit shrine. Culture didn’t evolve — it calcified, Now we worship brands while the planet cries.

TNCs roam like kings in suits, Dodging tax, extracting roots. They don’t wear swastikas — they wear smiles, But their strategies echo fascist files.

Verse 5 – Puppet Governments, Programmed Minds
Governments nod, pretend to care, But they’re puppets dancing in corporate air. They know the truth, but play the part, While the system tears the world apart.

And we — the species — we play along, Trained to obey, to not ask “wrong.” We call it freedom, call it fate, But it’s just a cage with a golden gate.

Verse 6 – The Species Verdict
We’re intelligent, but we don’t act wise, We build machines while the spirit dies. Our cultures lag, our systems stall, We chase the buzz, but forget the call.

The children see it — they feel the void, They know the game is paranoid. They want a world that makes some sense, Not one that trades their soul for rent.

Children of the Grind

(Get a load… get a load… get a load of my batshit orders…)
scratch
What? huh? yeah…

Get a load of my batshit orders,
Eat the crumbs from my toasted borders.
Put my remains in a mailbox low,
River run red when the reptiles show.

Dip that gravy in the brown sauce pot,
Serve me death on a plate still hot.
Eyes of a pig with a serpent’s wings,
Devil in the grass when the night bell rings.

Crawl through static, dust in lungs,
Beat too raw make the whole block numb.
Fox and hare on the lawn still spin,
Shadow in the dark let the madness in.

Clock strike twelve, hallway froze,
Hands too rough, mask don’t show.
No turning back, the sack too black,
What? huh? what? can’t run from that.

Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
What? huh? what? huh?
Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
What? what? what? what?

Voices low when the tape rewind,
Snakes on the lawn still twist my mind.
Serve me pain with a crystal glass,
Life too short so I move too fast.

Crocodiles feast where the water’s black,
Mailbox closed, don’t send that back.
Phonk too deep with a death-row bass,
Ghosts in the trunk make the street vibrate.

Blood on the floor where the echoes hide,
No windows here, no doors inside.
No mercy shown, no chance, no flag,
What you fear most in the black bag.

I’m the glitch in the funk, distortion scream,
Chopped-up loop in a broken dream.
What? huh? what? fill the void,
Static employed while the world destroyed.

Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
What? huh? what? huh?
Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
What? what? what? what?

Who? (what?) where? (what?)
Why? (what?) what? (what?)
Loop that tape, let it bleed, don’t stop,
Funk so raw make the coffin drop.

Basement dark with the red light glow,
Southside heat where the lost ones go.
Trunk too heavy with the 808,
World too slow when the clocks rotate.

Skull on the dash with a crooked grin,
Ash in the cup, pour the poison in.
Gold tooth shine in a bloodstain mask,
Every last breath in a black bag fast.

No name, no face, no flag, no voice,
Phonk too loud, no other choice.
From the grave to the street, I spit this hymn,
Ghost ride clean while the night stay grim.

Ride in the dark with a chopped-up prayer,
Funk in the system, death in the air.
What? huh? what? can’t escape,
This the sound that seals your fate.

Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
What? huh? what? huh?
Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
What? what? what? what?

What… what… what…
Yeah… oh… yeah… oh…
(Repeat, chopped, fade out)

What? huh? what? (Phonk Rap reload)

[Intro]  
Crimson fog rolls thick, jack-o-lantern grins split wide—  
Pumpkin innards spill, feeding fiends that slither inside.  

[Verse 1] 
Lurking in the boneyard haze, where epitaphs erode to dust,  
Wraiths claw through loam, exhaling rot that corrodes your trust.  
Skeletal fingers strum veins like banjo strings taut,  
Pluck the pulse from your throat, watch the ichor congeal in clots.  
Graveyard shift eternal, scythes swing in sync with the squall,  
Harvesting husks under harvest moons bloated, obscene, enthralled.  
Coffin lids creak confessions of carnage concealed in the clay,  
Unleashing legions of larvae that lattice your lungs, flay away.  
No eulogy suffices when the dirge devours the devout,  
Phantoms feast on phobias, filleting fears till they sprout.  

[Hook] 
Trick or torment, the veil rends, hell's hounds bay at the breach,  
Spectral scythes slice the silence, souls screech in the leach.  
Candy-coated carnage, masks melt to marrow and mire—  
Halloween's hex unravels, devours the dire.  
*(echo: devours... devours...)*  

[Verse 2]
Fog-fattened ghouls gorge on grief-glazed eyes,  
Iris ink spills secrets, staining sepia skies.  
Witch's wart-riddled warts weave wards that warp the weak,  
Brews bubble with bile from the bleakest of beaks.  
Prowling porchlights pulse with poltergeist pranks,  
Porcelain dolls dance, disemboweled in dank thanks.  
Razor-rimmed pumpkins puncture the pious parade,  
Gore-gargled giggles greet the masquerade's blade.  
Entendre's edge: treats turn to teeth in the trough,  
Or tricks transmute to talons, tough enough to trough.  

[Interlude] 
...and the clock strikes thirteen, chimes chime with the chime  
Of chainsaws chewing choruses from the sublime...  
*(scratch: rise... carve... devour)*  

[Verse 3] 
Catacomb corridors curl with the curl of cadaverous coils,  
Maggot minstrels murmur melodies that mar the mortals' moils.  
Eldritch effigies erect from the effluvium's embrace,  
Evoking eviscerations etched in every eclipsed face.  
Banshee bellows bellow through the belfry's battered bone,  
Banshee's breath begets the behemoth birthed from undertone.  
Vampiric vapors vamp on ventricles, viscous and vile,  
Draining the dregs till the derelict dial defiles the mile.  
No sanctuary in the spire's shadow, spires splinter to spears,  
Impaling the impudent, their innards inverted to spheres.  

[Bridge] 
Midnight's maw yawns wide, yawn of the yawning abyss,  
Where the damned draft decrees of the dreariest dismiss.  
Pumpkin patriarchs preside over the pandemonium's pyre,  
Incinerating innocents in the ire of the ire.  

[Verse 4] 
Executioner's echo executes the exquisite in exquisite detail,  
Axe arcs through auroras of arterial hail.  
Zombies zest with zest for the zest of zestless zest,  
Feasting on the festered, the festering's fest.  
Werewolf whelps whet their whetted whims on the whim,  
Whittling the wilting to whimsy within the grim.  
Ghoul galleys glide through the glade of the glaucous gloom,  
Gleaning the gleanings till the gloam consumes the room.  
Double's dagger: lights out means lanterns lure the lost,  
Or out means the outage orphans the ossified host.  

[Verse 5] 
Finale fractures the firmament with fiendish fission's fire,  
Apocalypse apples allure with the allure of the liar.  
Necrotic nobles negotiate the nadir's nocturnal nod,  
Nailing the nadir to the nexus of the godless sod.  
Revenants revel in the reveille of the ruptured repose,  
Rending the remnants till the requiem rose.  
Satanic scarecrows sentinel the sepulcher's sprawl,  
Scything the scions in the scrawl of the squall.  
No dawn dares the desecration's domain,  
Where the damned dictate the dirge's disdain—  
Halloween's horror hydra hungers, hydra-headed and hale,  
Hydrating the havoc till the hale turns to hail.  

[Outro] 
Echoes etch the end, but the end etches echoes anew...  
Carve your carve, or the carve carves you.  

Trick or Torment

Possession

Down On My Luck

Rogue Army Is a dj rapper and producer 
The Revolution is Within