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Ledger of Old Kings 2 van Young Ferris — hoes
NummerWA-z3g8LUOwgRPt

Ledger of Old Kings (versie 2)

vanYoung Ferris

TrapDonker92 BPMF-mineur2:08
SongtekstEngelsGelicentieerd voor locaties
0:00van 2:08
−2:08

Songtrailer (30 s)

Het krachtigste fragment van het nummer, met de WeavyAudio-kaart: 30 seconden. De videopagina openen

Over Ledger of Old Kings (versie 2)

«Ledger of Old Kings (versie 2)» is een donkere song in het genre trap, van Young Ferris (92 BPM, F-mineur, 2:08, gezongen in het Engels). Dit nummer maakt deel uit van de catalogus van WeavyAudio en is gelicentieerd voor weergave in koffiebars, restaurants, sportscholen, winkels en andere locaties.

Meer: trap zonder extra royalty’s. Meer op sfeer: donker. Licentie voor uw locatie.

Credits

Genre
Trap
Sfeer
Donker
Tempo
92 BPM
Toonsoort
F-mineur
Duur
2:08
Zang
Engels
Licentie
Gelicentieerd voor locaties

Trefwoorden

  • Hip-Hop
  • smooth
  • reflective
  • hard-earned
  • soulful sample chops
  • warm soul-sample chop
  • punchy 808 and snare
  • jazzy keys
  • Dark atmospheric trap
  • Norse mythology samples
  • heavy bass
  • 92 BPM
  • F minor
  • melodic half-sung rap with hushed harmonies

Toegevoegd 1 maand geleden · 19-9-2026 · gelicentieerd voor gebruik op locatie

Songtekst· volgt de audio

Ledger of Old Kings (versie 2) – songtekst

Intro

Grandmother kept the ledger in a mason jar of ash

Names of men who didn't make it past the factory gate

Some men leave a will, some men leave a scar

I keep the receipts written in their blood and sweat

Verse 1

Third shift, five a.m., the furnace mouth still breathing

Daddy's hands were leather, knuckles split and grieving

Forty years the same machine, the same relay, the same burn

Said the company don't count you till the day you don't return

Ledger in his locker—no, ledger in his bones

Every overtime a transaction, every scar a loan

Uncle Ray lost half a thumb to the press in '84

Came back Tuesday morning like the debt was never more

Mama kept his photograph beside the kitchen sink

Said survival ain't the story, it's the price we never think

I was seven when I learned the arithmetic of pain

Add the hours, subtract the fingers, multiply the strain

Grandfather's generation dug the tunnel under steel

Left their names in concrete so the city's built to feel

We inherit more than trauma—we inherit how to stand

When the ledger's written in the ash of your own hand

Chorus

We don't keep the gold, we keep the ledger

Every name, every scar, we remember

The cost is the crown and the crown is the cost

We don't keep the gold, we keep the ledger

Verse 2

At the gate they count the bodies, not the men that carried them

Twenty years I watched the roster shrink and no one said a thing

Tommy took a chemical that ate his lungs from in

Silent compensation, quiet, just a manila file and pen

I was old enough to know the game before I played it

Clocked in at the loading dock, my hands already fated

First week I carved a mark into the timber of the dock

Every day another notch, a private ticking clock

The foreman said don't get attached, they're just positions

Not lives, not names, not sons with their own ambitions

But I keep the ledger anyway, it's written in my stride

It's written in the way I walk, the way I earned my pride

Sister went to college on the overtime he bled

Said she'd break the cycle, leave the factory for dead

But she called me on her birthday, said she sees his face

In every spreadsheet, every graph, every boardroom space

The ledger follows forward, it don't stay behind

It's the inheritance of knowing what it costs to climb

Chorus

We don't keep the gold, we keep the ledger

Every name, every scar, we remember

The cost is the crown and the crown is the cost

We don't keep the gold, we keep the ledger

Verse 3

Now I'm teaching my son the language of the line

How to read the ledger written in the rust and time

Not to glorify the suffering, but to honor what they gave

Not to worship at the altar of the grave

But to understand that survival is a craft

That the strong aren't born, they're built from their last gasp

The ledger ain't a burden that we pass from hand to hand

It's a map of who we are, it's the truth of where we stand

Every name a cornerstone, every scar a testimony

That we didn't break when breaking was the prophecy

Uit de catalogus

Ook op WeavyAudio

WeavyAudio StudioWA-z3g8LUOwgRPt

Versies van dit nummer

Kant A

Meer nummers van Young Ferris

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  3. A3Iron Psalms for the Marginal – Young Ferris, hoesWA-1UXyjsNqqnCS2:58
  4. A4Wolfskin Inheritance – Young Ferris, hoesWA-E3zDXEhOtGcr4:00
  5. A5Runestones in the Rearview – Young Ferris, hoesWA-QleqPHj0O8ym2:38
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Kant B

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