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Wolves at the Welfare Line — Young Ferris, обложка
ТрекWA-EdWXDMU7hD7u

Wolves at the Welfare Line

Young Ferris

ТекстанглийскийЛицензия для заведений
0:00из 3:05
−3:05

Трейлер трека (30 с)

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О треке «Wolves at the Welfare Line»

«Wolves at the Welfare Line» — мрачная песня trap в исполнении Young Ferris (3:05, исполняется на английском). Входит в каталог WeavyAudio и лицензирован для публичного воспроизведения в кафе, ресторанах, спортзалах, магазинах и других заведениях.

Ещё: рэп и трэп без роялти. Ещё по настроению: мрачная. Лицензия для вашего заведения.

Данные трека

Исполнитель
Young Ferris
Жанр
Trap
Настроение
Мрачная
Длительность
3:05
Вокал
английский
Лицензия
Лицензия для заведений

Ключевые слова

  • rap
  • Aggressive hip hop / trap banger with male vocals; menacing synth lead over punchy low-end
  • rapid-fire hats and snapping snares
  • Verses stay sparse and dry for tight
  • percussive bars; choruses swell with blown-out bass
  • layered gang chants
  • and widened stereo
  • Breakdown sections drop to almost acapella with faint synth drones
  • then slam back in with an even heavier
  • saturated mix and extra risers
  • hip hop
  • rapid
  • raw
  • vocal

Добавлено 2 месяца назад · 27.08.2026 · лицензия для воспроизведения в заведениях

Текст· следует за музыкой

Wolves at the Welfare Line – текст песни

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

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Также в WeavyAudio

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