Headphones In My Hood
v4
@Anis Zulaika
Headphones In My Hood
v4
@Anis Zulaika
Songteksten
[Verse 1]
Woke up to a cracked phone screen
Missed calls from the old team
Group chat lookin’ like a ghost scene
Guess the distance really do more than a plane leave
Mama in the kitchen talkin’ ‘bout the rent due
I been tryna turn a notebook to the rescue
Writing every little bruise I’ve been pressed through
Turn pain into proof when I press through
[Chorus]
I got headphones in my hood, that’s church to me
Block too loud, so the words stay workin’ me
They say “boy, get a job, stop searchin’ dreams”
I just nod, hit play, let it burn in me (uh)
Headphones in my hood, that’s home right now
Whole world goin’ off, I tone that down
If the sky fall hard, I’ma own that sound
‘Cause the kid with the pen run his own small town (yeah)
[Verse 2]
Shorty said I’m married to the grind, not her
I said “facts,” but it still kinda made my chest hurt
We were eatin’ dollar fries, talkin’ big work
Now I’m solo at the spot, writin’ six verses
Big homie fell off, wrong turn, quick
Now he hittin’ up my line for a small flip
Told him I ain’t tryna see him in a dark script
Told him “pull up to the crib, we can talk quick” (for real)
[Chorus]
I got headphones in my hood, that’s church to me
Block too loud, so the words stay workin’ me
They say “boy, get a job, stop searchin’ dreams”
I just nod, hit play, let it burn in me
Headphones in my hood, that’s home right now
Whole world goin’ off, I tone that down
If the sky fall hard, I’ma own that sound
‘Cause the kid with the pen run his own small town (yeah)
Woke up to a cracked phone screen
Missed calls from the old team
Group chat lookin’ like a ghost scene
Guess the distance really do more than a plane leave
Mama in the kitchen talkin’ ‘bout the rent due
I been tryna turn a notebook to the rescue
Writing every little bruise I’ve been pressed through
Turn pain into proof when I press through
[Chorus]
I got headphones in my hood, that’s church to me
Block too loud, so the words stay workin’ me
They say “boy, get a job, stop searchin’ dreams”
I just nod, hit play, let it burn in me (uh)
Headphones in my hood, that’s home right now
Whole world goin’ off, I tone that down
If the sky fall hard, I’ma own that sound
‘Cause the kid with the pen run his own small town (yeah)
[Verse 2]
Shorty said I’m married to the grind, not her
I said “facts,” but it still kinda made my chest hurt
We were eatin’ dollar fries, talkin’ big work
Now I’m solo at the spot, writin’ six verses
Big homie fell off, wrong turn, quick
Now he hittin’ up my line for a small flip
Told him I ain’t tryna see him in a dark script
Told him “pull up to the crib, we can talk quick” (for real)
[Chorus]
I got headphones in my hood, that’s church to me
Block too loud, so the words stay workin’ me
They say “boy, get a job, stop searchin’ dreams”
I just nod, hit play, let it burn in me
Headphones in my hood, that’s home right now
Whole world goin’ off, I tone that down
If the sky fall hard, I’ma own that sound
‘Cause the kid with the pen run his own small town (yeah)
Stijl van muziek
rap, Minimal, moody boom-bap with dusty vinyl crackle and a round sub-bass. Close, conversational male vocals riding behind the snare, occasional whispered doubles for emphasis. Hook lifts with layered chant-style backing and a filtered synth pad widening the stereo field. Final chorus adds subtle tape delay throws on key phrases, fading on an a cappella tag.
