[FREE] UK Drill Type Beat x NY Drill Type Beat 2024 "Eye For An Eye"

Free for NON PROFIT ONLY! RELEASING ON STREAMING PLATFORMS WITHOUT A LEASE/EXCLUSIVE WILL RESULT IN A COPYRIGHT STRIKE!
Must credit - (Prod. Narline Beats x Polbeats x Bsbeats)
💰 Purchase | Instant Delivery: www.beatstars....
For more beats: www.beatstars....
1st channel - / @narlinebeats
*Sample not cleared! If you purchase a lease please be sure to clear the sample to use for profit!
Email - [e-mail]
Instagram - narlineee
/ narlineee
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[@ek_no_way]

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[@NarlineBeatsDrill2]

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[@07ab]

Just found ur channel bruh keep it up

[@NarlineBeatsDrill2]

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[@azertyopol5179]

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[@Prodzbyys]

Hard bro

[@lotusvhs]

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[@NarlineBeatsDrill2]

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[@ArtemusPariah]

Silicone sirens sing a stale refrain, a mediocre muse with a beauty mark marred by the game. Let the champagne fizz mask the emptiness within, your head needs a crown, your hair a real good clean. Status a gilded cage, freedom's the price I can't pay. Karma's a boomerang, my choices its trajectory. Claws I bare, the concrete jungle's my domain. Loyalty's a fading ink, your betrayal a searing stain. Hype fuels the engine, the radio's a feedback loop, churning out the same tired noise. Inner demons clash, a lyrical civil war I can't recoup. Selling my soul? A joke. The fire burns within my core, a furnace forging truth into rhymes. Blue ticks and irrelevance, a digital ghost town where messages vanish into the void. Fresh prince airs fade, reality's a harsh sound, a symphony of struggle played on cracked pavement. Open your eyes, the truth's a bitter pill to swallow, but it cuts through the manufactured bliss. Hunger pangs a symphony, designer stench a cruel facade. Here, gunshots echo, a concrete jungle serenade for the forgotten. This life's a battlefield where survival's the only trade, and loyalty's a bullet best kept in the chamber. Mic becomes a weapon, lyrics sharp as razor blades, spittin' truth like venom, piercing through these manufactured parades. Fake rappers crumble, their empires built on borrowed sand, fleeting fame dissolving like cotton candy in the rain. This ain't no sugar-coated verse, it's a lyrical Molotov in hand, ready to ignite the revolution. No longer echoes in the dark, my voice ignites the city's spark. The concrete jungle's my canvas, a sprawling monument to the forgotten. I paint a rebellion's vibrant mark, a graffiti masterpiece scrawled across the system's cracks. They crave the spotlight's sterile glow, but I expose the decay beneath the glitter. This symphony of struggle's here to stay, a chorus of the downtrodden rising above the manufactured noise. Watch the plastic empires go, toppled by the raw power of our collective voice. Bruised and battered, but my spirit won't be swayed. This concrete lullaby whispers tales the system has betrayed, a mournful song of broken promises and forgotten dreams. We, the forgotten, rise from the shadows, voices amplified and unafraid. This ain't a war of bullets, but of words, where the truth finally presides, a weapon wielded with righteous fury. So let the sirens wail, a chaotic symphony of our plight, a soundtrack to the revolution brewing in the underbelly. We the rebels with a cause, igniting a firestorm in the dead of night. This ain't a passing trend, it's a phoenix rising from the ashes, burning ever so bright. These concrete jungles become our kingdoms, not of steel and glass, but of resilience and defiance. We claim them, not with violence, but with the unwavering power of our truth, bathed in the glorious light of a new dawn.

[@Warko850]

Basoon