create me a uk drill song about a gang called hust

[Intro – menacing sub-bass hum, distant sirens] Tequila-La streets on lock Black hoods up, we don’t stop [Verse 1 – sharp snare hits, pulsing 808] Black threads cling to every frame Tequila-La’s where we claim our name Hustlers on the block, we run the game Cross us once, you’ll know the pain [Chorus – distorted bass, clattering percussion] Black hoods, black kicks, Tequila-La turf Hustlers on the grind, we don’t lose our nerve Every corner’s ours, we own the curve Mess with the crew, you’ll get what you deserve [Verse 2 – deeper 808, eerie synth riff] Shop fronts boarded, streetlights dim We move quiet, but we hit him Black masks on when the night sets in Tequila-La’s ours, no room to win [Chorus – layered ad-libs, intensified bass] Black hoods, black kicks, Tequila-La turf Hustlers on the grind, we don’t lose our nerve Every alley’s ours, we own the curb Mess with the crew, you’ll get what you deserve [Bridge – sparse drums, haunting synth pad] They talk tough till we step to ‘em Black coats on, we ain’t here to hug ‘em Tequila-La’s ours, we don’t budge ‘em One wrong move, we’ll make ‘em suffer [Solo – menacing bass solo, skittering hi-hats] (Instrumental Solo) [Chorus – maximum intensity, full drill production] Black hoods, black kicks, Tequila-La turf Hustlers on the grind, we don’t lose our nerve Every block’s ours, we own the earth Mess with the crew, you’ll get what you deserve [Outro – fading 808, distant police radio chatter] Tequila-La Hustlers till the end Black on black, we’ll never bend