L.A. — BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES
[Explicit]

[Intro — haunting female melody, drums building]
Blood under the palm trees,
Sun going down.
Everybody loved you
When you were still around.

[Verse 1 — gritty, aggressive male rap]
Black suit jacket in the passenger seat,
Graveyard dirt on some fucked-up sneaks.
Back on the block where we learned to steal,
Before we knew what a funeral costs for real.
Liquor-store neon, a busted-out sign,
Your old front steps where we wasted our time.
Somebody painted right over your name,
Same damn wall, just a fresh coat of shame.

Fuck all the posts with the broken-heart shit,
Half those motherfuckers never checked when you slipped.
Now they need pictures, they need front-row seats,
Need to look hurt while your mama can’t eat.
I watched one bastard embrace your dad,
Wearing that watch that you used to have.
Big wet eyes and a polished gold face—
I nearly put my fucking fist through the place.

But I shook his hand, let the bullshit breathe,
Felt that gold bracelet brush my sleeve.
He asked how I’m doing; I said I’m fine,
With a mouth full of blood where I bit it inside.
Now the bass rattles screws in the driver-side door,
And I circle that block like I’m looking for more.
Your last missed call still sits on my screen,
I turn it facedown when the light turns green.

[Chorus — shouted male lead, female title refrain]
BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES!
Everybody eats, nobody comes clean!
L.A.! What the fuck did we become?
Toast to the dead, then we swallow our tongues!
BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES!
Gold on our wrists, dirt in our teeth!
Fuck all that brotherhood sold for a fee—
Everybody eats, nobody comes clean!

[Verse 2 — tight, venomous delivery]
That slick little fuck had a different tale,
First he was home, then his phone had failed.
Then he was out, but he couldn’t say where,
Kept rubbing his neck when somebody stared.
I knew that car by the dent in the wing,
Saw it that night by the dry-cleaning place.
Engine still running, lights turned low,
He watched you walk in, then he reached for his phone.

Next morning, he called with a voice full of shock,
Asked what I’d heard, asked who’d been caught.
Never once asked if your mother was straight,
Just kept asking who’d seen you that late.
Now he’s buying the rounds, putting cash on the bar,
Playing your songs like he knew who you are.
Fuck your tribute, your bottle, your tears,
You only showed up when the coast was clear.

I follow him out where the smokers all stand,
Rehearse what I’ll say with my keys in my hand.
He catches my eye, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t run,
Just nods like there’s business between both of us.
And that’s what cuts through the booze and the noise—
He remembers something I’m trying to avoid.
I let him walk. Hear his tires on the street.
Stand there sweating in the midnight heat.

[Chorus — full force]
BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES!
Everybody eats, nobody comes clean!
L.A.! What the fuck did we become?
Toast to the dead, then we swallow our tongues!
BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES!
Gold on our wrists, dirt in our teeth!
Fuck all that brotherhood sold for a fee—
Everybody eats, nobody comes clean!

[Bridge — sung female, low rhythmic male underneath]
Wash that shirt, scrub those hands,
Morning comes, the stain still stands.
All that money, all that sleep—
Tell me what you got to keep.

[Male — rhythmic, rising]
Fuck this room and the spinning fan,
Fuck that drawer by the nightstand.
Fuck that cash I never spent—
Still wrapped up in the same damn band.

[Verse 3 — hard delivery, increasingly exposed]
Here’s the part that I cut from the story,
Before I get drunk and demand you mourn me.
He came to the shop on a Thursday night,
Asked when you left, said you owed him a ride.
Left an envelope under my coat,
Enough for the rent and the money I owed.
I knew you two had been fighting for weeks,
Still gave him the time you were planning to leave.

Didn’t ask why. Didn’t give you a ring.
Told myself it was some small-time shit.
Then your name lit up while I counted his cash,
And I watched that motherfucking call slide past.
That’s why he smiled when I shook his hand,
Why he didn’t look scared when I followed him out.
He knows I can’t point without showing my palm,
Knows exactly whose money I’m sitting on.

Your mama hugged me beside that grave,
Said you were lucky to have me those days.
I held her up while her knees went weak,
And that shit still tears the breath out of me.
All night long, I’ve been cursing his name,
Driving in circles, rehearsing my rage.
Called him a snake like my own hands were clean—
I took the money. Let the fucking phone ring.

[Final chorus — massive, altered lyrics]
BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES!
Everybody eats, nobody comes clean!
L.A.! What the fuck have I done?
Stood with your mother and swallowed my tongue!
BLOOD UNDER THE PALM TREES!
Gold in that drawer, dirt on my knees!
Fuck every lie that I told about me—
I took my cut. Now I don’t fucking sleep!