Скачать или смотреть Zaya Wolf - Dead City Sprint (Fast Dark-Pop / Run The Redlines)

A night-drive banger: motorik 4/4 kick, octave bass, serrated synths and guitar stabs under whisper-tight verses that explode into a speed-rush chorus. It’s survival at 130+ BPM—rain on asphalt, lungs on fire, Zaya outrunning every old script.

Listen to the full album and stream:
➡️ Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/intl-de/arti...
➡️ Apple Music:   / zaya-wolf  
➡️ Zaya Wolf Discography:    • Zaya Wolf Discography  

Lyrics:

Rain writes lines on the glass—
breathe it in, let it pass.

Midnight grid, my pulse on tens,
empty streets like tempered lens.
I don’t need a map to win—
I’ve got redlines in my skin.
Every rule says “slow it down,”
watch me turn your brakes to sound.

Count me in from five to spark,
hold on four—then cut the dark.
Three—the toms, two—the spin,
one—the hit—now pull me in.

Dead city sprint—lights run thin,
I run the redlines in my skin.
I won’t fade, I won’t relent,
push the night—I won’t repent.
Dead city sprint—don’t slow the drum,
I’m here to burn, not to become numb.
Touch the brake—I’m gone like flint,
(GO!) this is my dead city sprint.

Window ghosts and neon seams,
empty towers, engine dreams.
Every “no” becomes a lane,
I change gears and shed the chain.
Static tries to call me home—
I turn silence into chrome.

Count me in from five again,
hold on four—let thunder bend.
Three—we rise, two—we tint,
one—we break—the world’s a hint.

Dead city sprint—lights run thin,
I run the redlines in my skin.
I won’t fade, I won’t relent,
push the night—I won’t repent.
Dead city sprint—don’t slow the drum,
I’m here to burn, I won’t play dumb.
Touch the brake—I’m gone like flint,
this is my dead city sprint.

If I’m chased, I chase the spark,
draw a map across the dark.
Raise the floor and drop the tint—
DON’T—MAKE—ME—QUIT!


Dead city sprint—lights run thin,
I run the redlines in my skin.
Every limit turns to vent,
I breathe fire—no consent.
Dead city sprint—keep drums loud,
gang of one against the crowd.
Touch the brake—I crack the flint—
(GO! GO! GO!) dead city sprint.

Rain goes soft, the skyline grins—
dawn ahead, and the engine wins.


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