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Wolves at the Welfare Line 2 de Young Ferris — pochette
TitreWA-DmYLo4fdhfcB

Wolves at the Welfare Line (version 2)

deYoung Ferris

TrapSombre130 BPMdo mineur3:04
ParolesanglaisSous licence pour les établissements
0:00sur 3:04
−3:04

Bande-annonce de la chanson (30 s)

Le passage le plus fort de la chanson, avec la carte WeavyAudio : 30 secondes. Ouvrir la page de la vidéo

À propos de Wolves at the Welfare Line (version 2)

« Wolves at the Welfare Line (version 2) » est une chanson sombre du genre trap, signé Young Ferris (130 BPM, do mineur, 3:04, chanté en anglais). Ce titre fait partie du catalogue de WeavyAudio et est sous licence pour une diffusion dans les cafés, restaurants, salles de sport, commerces et autres établissements.

À voir aussi: rap et trap sans redevances supplémentaires. À voir aussi par ambiance: sombre. Obtenir une licence pour votre établissement.

Crédits

Genre
Trap
Ambiance
Sombre
Tempo
130 BPM
Tonalité
do mineur
Durée
3:04
Voix
anglais
Licence
Sous licence pour les établissements

Mots-clés

  • Hip-Hop
  • gritty
  • mid-tempo
  • hard-earned pride
  • rattling hi-hats
  • moody synth lead
  • snappy claps
  • deep 808 glides
  • Dark atmospheric trap
  • Norse mythology samples
  • heavy bass
  • 130 BPM
  • C minor
  • raspy rap delivery
  • chant-style backing vocals

Ajouté il y a 1 mois · 19/09/2026 · sous licence pour une diffusion dans les établissements

Paroles· suivent l’audio

Wolves at the Welfare Line (version 2) – paroles

Intro

Ticket number curled in my mother's fist like a prayer

Fluorescent light hummed white like it never cared

Said the wolves don't howl round here, they smile and count

Every check we cashed came with a toll on the amount

Verse 1

Nine years old, held the door for a room full of ghosts

Folding chairs in rows, everybody guarding what they got close

Watched a man sell hope in envelopes marked cash advance

Told my mother it was easy money, called it second chance

She counted out the interest like a debt she couldn't shake

Said the system feeds you slow so the hunger never breaks

Caseworker stamped our file, called us case forty-three

Never learned our names but knew the number better than we

Outside the gate the check-cash vans lined up like a hearse

Circling the building slow, first in line, first to get worse

My father did a stretch for passing paper that wasn't real

Came home with a limp and a story he wouldn't reveal

Said the wolves inside wear badges, the wolves outside wear smiles

Both of them get fed the same, just differ in their style

I learned to hold my number like it was a piece of gold

Cause the ones who lost their patience were the ones the wolves controlled

Chorus

They circle where the checks come thin

Wolves don't wait for dark to move in

Line moves slow but the debt moves quick

We the ones still standing when the wolves get sick

Verse 2

Five years later I'm the one filling out the form

Mother's hands too tired, arthritis caught the storm

Same fluorescent hum, same numbered ticket call

Different face behind the glass but same cold to the wall

I bring my own pen now, learned that trick at ten

Cause the ones who borrowed theirs never saw it again

Watched a woman cry when they cut her benefits in half

Watched the same van outside offering her a laugh

Told her keep the number, don't let the interest bite

She looked at me like I was talking foreign in the light

Went home that night and taught my sister how to read the terms

Said the fine print bites you slower than the worst of germs

My father's limp got worse but his eyes stayed clear as glass

Said surviving ain't a moment son, it's a mile you gotta pass

Now I count my blessings different, count the wolves we dodged

Every stamp inside that office was a war we never lodged

Chorus

They circle where the checks come thin

Wolves don't wait for dark to move in

Line moves slow but the debt moves quick

We the ones still standing when the wolves get sick

Bridge

Now I drive the block on Fridays when the checks come out

Not to prey like they did, but to watch the exits and the routes

Pass out cards with real numbers, credit unions, not the vans

Tell the kids in folding chairs they ain't required to shake hands

My mother's number's papered on the wall above my bed

Case forty-three in gold ink, first debt I paid off in my head

Ain't rich, ain't got no gates but the ones I built myself

Every scar behind that glass is a story on the shelf

Outro

Du catalogue

Aussi sur WeavyAudio

WeavyAudio StudioWA-DmYLo4fdhfcB

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