Ramil

Black rain fall on the hood like ash, Blue lights sweep, then the whole street flash. Windows boarded, names on the wall, Everybody say they solid till the night calls. Ramil came up where the weak get erased, Where a man learn silence got a price on its face. Cold steel stare, no love in the grin, Darkness outside, darker within. Dead phone ring in an empty room, Bass hit low like a walk to the tomb. No heroes here, just ghosts in the cut, Old pain talking through a half-burned blunt. They talk tough for the camera, fold in the rain, Ramil don’t speak—let the silence explain. All-black fit with the mud on the sole, Came from a place that’ll swallow your soul. Streetlamp buzz, like a wire might snap, Night shift demons on the corner in black. No sunrise promised, no mercy owed, Just tire marks leading off that road. Faces get lost where the concrete sweats, Everybody got scars, everybody got debts. Heaven feel far when the sky turn red, So the living move quiet like the already dead. Ramil built walls where a heart should be, Trust got buried where the old trees be. No fake gang signs, no rent-a-name, Just a cold-ass presence when he enter the frame. Low voice, high stakes, eyes never blink, One foot on the curb, one foot on the brink. If the city got a pulse, it beat through the grill, If the night got a name, it’s Ramil.