Concrete Prayers

{subdued emotional intro, soft minor piano chords,

distant atmospheric street ambiance} (mmm-hmm) {vocalist humming

quietly}

I grew up where the streetlights flicker like warnings Mama worked doubles,

had me prayin' every morning Corner store credit,

we was livin' off IOU's Dreams got deferred when the rent came

due

Seen my brother switch from homework to hustle Same block,

different grind, just tryna make somethin' outta nothin' No silver spoon,

just a plastic fork and a vision Told myself,

"one day they gon' listen" {smooth boom-bap beat drops,

warm Rhodes piano, steady ride cymbal} Now the scars on my knuckles

tell the story for me

Every L that I took was tuition,

that was glory to me

They want the results but don't know what it cost to be

free Slept on floors,

missed meals, cut off,

lost homies {soaring gospel choir backing vocals,

emotional horn swell, driving drum groove} Loyalty rare,

so I keep my circle tiny Trust issues heavy,

but my faith still shiny I ain't preachin' 'bout the streets,

I’m just speakin' from mine If you never walked it,

then don't step in these lines They say "keep it real" till

the real get real Then they switch sides quick when it’s time

to feel

I stayed down when the money wasn't there Now the same ones

watchin' like I put it on air {groove pulls back slightly,

dry snare rimshot, warm acoustic bass} Now the scars on my knuckles

tell the story for me

Every L that I took was tuition,

that was glory to me

They want the results but don't know what it cost to be

free

Slept on floors, missed meals,

cut off, lost homies {choir returns in full force,

sweeping strings, driving rhythmic energy} This for the ones who ain't make

it out the frame Names on murals,

memories in the brain I carry that weight every step that I

take Concrete prayers, that's the path that I made

{drums drop out, soft piano only,

dramatic string arrangement, vulnerable vocal delivery}

No handouts, just handwork and late nights

Turned pain into pages,

now I’m paid right Still hear the sirens in the back of

my mind But I’d rather be judged by the grind than the

crime {gospel vocals fading,

distant siren sound effect,

slow vinyl tape stop} (yeah) (grind than the crime...)