[Intro ] For the crew, for the nights that made us — cassette glow and city hum. [Verse 1] Hudson & 3rd, busted soles on wet pavement, Park-bench whispers, porchlight deals, shoebox nights and cassette pavement. Out our hood — Fairmount to Morin Heights, we thought one day we'd make it big. Dash-light flicker, gum-stuck rhythms, rooftop knocks and corner rigs. Z-Mar bit my face that night — laugh, bruise, a story I replay, Kevin's lighter clicked a steady beat, voicemail laughs on delay. In our studio apartment, in the closet, making mixtapes with a ten-dollar mic, Static spit, closet smoke, cassette hiss in shoebox nights — we liked the strike. [Pre-Chorus ] Beat drops — names cut clean through hoodlight and hum, I fold apologies like old tapes, press 'em to my chest until they come. [Chorus — Hard Hook] Blackstoners — closet shows, ten-dollar mic, we ride Wish we had a camera — MTV would've paid to film our life Blackstoners — closet-made, loud and raw, we ride Say the names, feel the flame — J-Gone, Nick, Zack, Kev, we ride [Verse 2 — Double-Time Buildup] Fast-lace cadence, spit-snap, Z-Mar hums hooks like a hymn on loop, We pass the mic like flashlights, stoop to stoop, concrete troop. Phone screens dim, seasons flip, mixtape hiss became our proof, Car trunks, payphones, corners named — cheap roofs and louder truths. We traded heat and handshakes, scraped pride for louder laughs, Crossed lines, mended cuts, rewound the nights to stitch the halves. I still flip that cassette, crackle chorus bringing nights alive, Wish we had a camera to record it all — MTV would've bought those rights. [Pre-Chorus — Variation] Low hum, bass breathes, city choir — tape spool sings its lines, When the drop hits, midnight names ring out like car-park chimes. [Bridge ] I dial your number — it rings into the dark, a ghostly tone, Drive past our old block, blue paint flaking off the stoop we owned. I park, breathe slow, open the closet door — the mixtape knocks, Press play, Kev's laugh hits my chest, J-Gone's bar lands like a rock. I call the crew back into the night — one last round, one last look, Fold the past into a verse, stitch the nights back into books. [Final Chorus — Full Energy] Blackstoners — closet shows, ten-dollar mic, we ride Wish we had a camera — MTV would've paid to film our life Blackstoners — closet-made, loud and raw, we ride Say the names, feel the flame — J-Gone, Nick, Zack, Kev, we ride [Outro — Chant / Call & Response] (Leader) Blackstoners! (Crowd) We ride! (Leader) J-Gone! (Crowd) We ride! (Leader) Nick! (Crowd) We ride! (Leader) Zack! (Crowd) We ride! (Leader) Kevin — RIP! (Crowd) Forever ride!