Concrete Corners
v4
@Gábor Magnucz
Concrete Corners
v4
@Gábor Magnucz
Dalszöveg
[Intro]
Block talk
Sidewalk sermons
Dust on the Js
Hunger in the verses (yeah)
[Verse 1]
Hand-me-down hoodie
Dreams feel brand new
Corner store credit
Bag of chips
Plain shoes
Mama countin' pennies
Stress in her back
I was countin' seconds
‘Til the bell
Runnin’ back
Sirens as a soundtrack
Chalk on the curb
Learned math from the dice
Learned God from her words
“Baby don’t fold”
She prayed by the stove
I wrote my first rhyme
On a past-due note
[Chorus]
From the gutter to the gold teeth
Talk heavy ‘cause we know grief
They label us ghetto
We call it home
Turn pain into pressure
Into poems
From the alleys to the nosebleeds
Same kids with the torn jeans
They label us ghetto
We made it art
Concrete corners
Million-dollar hearts (woah)
[Verse 2]
Rust on the railings
Graffiti on the glass
Coach said “books”
Homies said “cash”
I was in the middle
Tryna split that path
Mic in my backpack
Hope in my hands
Late bus rides
Freestyles
Fogged windows
Name on the desk
Carved in with a pencil
Teacher said “trouble”
Judge said “case”
I said “watch God
Put stage in my place”
[Chorus]
From the gutter to the gold teeth
Talk heavy ‘cause we know grief
They label us ghetto
We call it home
Turn pain into pressure
Into poems
From the alleys to the nosebleeds
Same kids with the torn jeans
They label us ghetto
We made it art
Concrete corners
Million-dollar hearts (hey)
[Bridge]
Say what you want
We been through worse
Turn every slur
To a live-wire verse
Hands to the sky
Feet in the dirt
We came from the hurt
Now watch how it works
[Chorus]
From the gutter to the gold teeth
Talk heavy ‘cause we know grief
They label us ghetto
We call it home
Turn pain into pressure
Into poems
From the alleys to the nosebleeds
Same kids with the torn jeans
They label us ghetto
We made it art
Concrete corners
Million-dollar hearts
Block talk
Sidewalk sermons
Dust on the Js
Hunger in the verses (yeah)
[Verse 1]
Hand-me-down hoodie
Dreams feel brand new
Corner store credit
Bag of chips
Plain shoes
Mama countin' pennies
Stress in her back
I was countin' seconds
‘Til the bell
Runnin’ back
Sirens as a soundtrack
Chalk on the curb
Learned math from the dice
Learned God from her words
“Baby don’t fold”
She prayed by the stove
I wrote my first rhyme
On a past-due note
[Chorus]
From the gutter to the gold teeth
Talk heavy ‘cause we know grief
They label us ghetto
We call it home
Turn pain into pressure
Into poems
From the alleys to the nosebleeds
Same kids with the torn jeans
They label us ghetto
We made it art
Concrete corners
Million-dollar hearts (woah)
[Verse 2]
Rust on the railings
Graffiti on the glass
Coach said “books”
Homies said “cash”
I was in the middle
Tryna split that path
Mic in my backpack
Hope in my hands
Late bus rides
Freestyles
Fogged windows
Name on the desk
Carved in with a pencil
Teacher said “trouble”
Judge said “case”
I said “watch God
Put stage in my place”
[Chorus]
From the gutter to the gold teeth
Talk heavy ‘cause we know grief
They label us ghetto
We call it home
Turn pain into pressure
Into poems
From the alleys to the nosebleeds
Same kids with the torn jeans
They label us ghetto
We made it art
Concrete corners
Million-dollar hearts (hey)
[Bridge]
Say what you want
We been through worse
Turn every slur
To a live-wire verse
Hands to the sky
Feet in the dirt
We came from the hurt
Now watch how it works
[Chorus]
From the gutter to the gold teeth
Talk heavy ‘cause we know grief
They label us ghetto
We call it home
Turn pain into pressure
Into poems
From the alleys to the nosebleeds
Same kids with the torn jeans
They label us ghetto
We made it art
Concrete corners
Million-dollar hearts
A zene stílusa
Gritty boom-bap with clipped, swung drums and a looped minor-key piano riff; male vocals locked in a tight pocket, ad-libs tucked wide. Hook lifts with stacked gang vocals and a heavier kick, bridge strips to bass and snaps before final chorus hits hardest.
