DullBlah[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Yo, they say the streets don’t lie, but the beats got ’em hypnotized,
Kids spittin’ curses, replayin’ verses where the trap’s glorified.
Glocks in the rhymes, pills in the lines, moms cryin’ at night,
But the playlist bumps, they think it’s just hype—nah, it’s a twisted guide.
We paint the pain, the cash, the chains, the game’s a dirty teacher,
But when the youth mimic the struggle, who’s gon’ reach ’em?
They memorizin’ violence, thinkin’ slingin’ is righteous,
But the truth’s missin’—ain’t nobody writin’ ’em a lifeline.
[Chorus]
Street sermons sound sweet, but the message is heat,
Kids dancin’ to death, where the hell’s the retreat?
We built this b**t on b***d, now they thirsty for more,
Ain’t no fairytales here—just a wolf at the door.
[Verse 2]
Dope rhymes, gold grills, tales of the bag and the bullet,
But Junior’s sixth-grade mind can’t decode the bullshit.
He thinks the trap’s a ladder, not a coffin with a view,
Thinks "savage" is a flex, not a wound the streets chew.
Mamas work doubles, prayin’ their boys don’t replicate,
But the track’s on repeat, feedin’ futures we complicate.
We speak the real, but the real’s a double-edged k***e,
When the crib’s a warzone, how they s’posed to choose life?
[Bridge]
The rhythm’s a snare, the hook’s a loaded prayer,
They bumpin’ our scars like it’s candy to share.
But what’s the cost when the youth get lost?
A genre born from pain—now who bears the cross?
[Chorus]
Street sermons sound sweet, but the message is heat,
Kids dancin’ to death, where the hell’s the retreat?
We built this b**t on b***d, now they thirsty for more,
Ain’t no fairytales here—just a wolf at the door.
[Outro]