Fists Clenched Rise

Yo, Concrete John. Yo, Concrete, Jungle, Shadows creepin' deep, Hustle in my veins, no time for sleep, man, them scheming. Eyes on my stack, pockets gettin' heavy, but they plop my back, rifles lurking. Talkin' that smoke, leave them smoke, I fist clenched. Eyes tight street kings crowned in the dead of night no mercy no fear we own this fight but bottle burnin' ignite the light. Poverty chains, I snap them clean, wealth callin' loud, hear the sirens scream. Swingin' wild blades, I dodge the shank, turn beef to gray, suspire for the throne. We rise from the dirt, we own this fight, but bottle burnin' ignite the light. Legacy Dutch, where the struggle bends, kings forever. In the grip we stand, street life posts across the land. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.