Polo G’s deluxe era hits like a blindside blitz on HOOD POET: Black Heart Edition, dropping December 19 via Columbia Records, and Madden turns the block into a brutal endzone where opps get sacked and ghosts still haunt the huddle.
You feel it in the bones: that trap symphony from producers TM88, Southside, and 808 Mafia, all brooding piano loops and rattling hi-hats that cradle Polo’s melodic menace like a loaded clip. It’s drill-tinged rap at its rawest—bouncy enough for the whip, heavy enough to haunt your replay button—where football metaphors (“We love the field, they should put us on Madden”) mask the body count, turning “hole in one” drives into slumped soldiers and empty clips.
Thematically, it’s Polo unpacking the come-up’s curse: shedding tears for fallen dogs while suiting up for war, flexing drop-top Coupes in winter against the pain that “still be hard to get rid of.” No cap in the club verses either—gripping asses off the X, bagging baddies like classics— but it’s laced with that survivor’s edge, from block posts to never folding under pressure. Leaked snippets had fans fiending since ’22, but this polish makes it a hood anthem, Polo’s voice cracking just enough to remind you it’s all too real.
The Black Heart Edition expands the original August ’24 blueprint into a 22-track testament to Chi-Town survival, stacking fresh heat like “Move Wrong,” the G Herbo-assisted “Gangsta Graduation,” reworked “Hardbody (V2),” and bangers such as “Crash The Party” and “Chances.” It’s Polo’s unfiltered archive raid—deeper dives into loss, loyalty, and leveling up, clocking over an hour of uncompromised storytelling that honors the hood’s heartbeat without the gloss. No overblown saga; just elevated echoes of his poetic roots, with features nodding to his O’Block kin.
Polo’s cresting a reflective wave at 26, fresh off the Hood Poet Tour’s arena sell-outs from NYC to LA, where he turned stages into therapy sessions blending tears with triumphs. The kid who flipped “Rapstar” virality into Hall of Fame plaques is trading flash for depth now—less party anthems, more legacy ledgers—proving he’s not just surviving the spotlight; he’s scripting the scars that got him here.
Dive into the Madden lyrics below and unpack its raw narrative. Don’t miss other HOOD POET: Black Heart Edition tracks for more of Polo G’s poetic street soul.
Lyrics of Madden by Polo G
[Intro]
Uh, Uh, Uh
‘Member For New Kicks, Sellin’ Raw
I Dropped A Few Bands On A Show
Now That Young Nigga Don’t Care What It Cost
Swear In My New Crib, You Get Lost
We Still Gon’ Suit Up And Risk It All
Yeah, We Gon’ Shoot To Kill, Knock ’em Off
I Shed A Few Tears For My Dog
I Be Up Still Wishin’ You Could Call [Chorus]
F**k All The Opps, Know I Make ’em The Maddest
Like A Strict Teacher, Ain’t Giving Out Passes
You Better Duck When That Beam Get To Taggin’
We Love The Field, They Should Put Us On Madden
Hole In One, We Take It Solely Done
Tryna Score Like A Shot Through The Basket
Loadin’ Drums, We Leave Yo’ Soldiers Slumped
Swear They Empty Out Clips With A Passion [Verse 1]
In The Club, I Don’t Care If You Here With Your Man
I Get High Off The X, Then I’m Grippin’ On Asses
Niggas’ll Die ’bout A Bitch, Said It’s Four Nickel Hittin’
And Turn His Afro Into Ashes
And We Can Go Through A List, All The Hoes That We Hittin’
I Swear That My Bitch Be The Baddest, Uh
Beat From The Back When I’m Baggin’, Uh
She Gon’ Throw Back Like A Classic, Uh
‘Member I Was Broke, Now I’m Back On My Ass
And That Shit Had Me Losin’ My Temper
Swervin’ In Cali’, I Come From The Raq
Now It’s Drop Top Coupes In The Winter
No Matter How Far I Go, Like This Pain In Me
Still Be Hard To Get Rid Of
No Matter How Far I Go, Got The Gang With Me
Bitch, I’m Move With My Killers [Pre-Chorus]
‘Member For New Kicks, Sellin’ Raw
I Dropped A Few Bands On A Show
Now That Young Nigga Don’t Care What It Cost
Swear In My New Crib, You Get Lost
We Still Gon’ Suit Up And Risk It All
Yeah, We Gon’ Shoot To Kill, Knock ’em Off
I Shed A Few Tears For My Dog
I Be Up Still Wishin’ You Could Call [Chorus]
F*k All The Opps, Know I Make ’em The Maddest
Like A Strict Teacher, Ain’t Giving Out Passes
You Better Duck When That Beam Get To Taggin’
We Love The Field, They Should Put Us On Madden
Hole In One, We Take It Solely Done
Tryna Score Like A Shot Through The Basket
Loadin’ Drums, We Leave Yo’ Soldiers Slumped
Swear They Empty Out Clips With A Passion [Verse 2]
Lead On My Hip, I Ain’t Packin’ A Pistol
Don’t Make Me Let My Lil’ Savages Get You
Won’t Hesitate When We Clappin’ Them Pistols
Shots To His Face, They Gon’ Fracture His Dental
Send ’em To God With This New Beretta
He Lettin’ Off Shots From The Back Of The Window
Rock For The Squad, Applyin’ That Pressure
I Bet He Gon’ Fold Like A Mac Or A Kindle
Uh, Survive In The Trenches
Hustle Like 50, Might Die Tryna Get It
I Know The Police Be On Me ’bout Murders
I Love That The Opps Gon’ Deny That I’m With It
You Better Watch Who You Let In That Car
‘Cause He Might Drop It Down, Boy, You Ridin’ With A Witness
Racks To My Slot, Used To Post On The Block
But Know I Ain’t Never Spent Time In The Kitchen [Pre-Chorus]
‘Member For New Kicks, Sellin’ Raw
I Dropped A Few Bands On A Show
Now That Young Nigga Don’t Care What It Cost
Swear In My New Crib, You Get Lost
We Still Gon’ Suit Up And Risk It All
Yeah, We Gon’ Shoot To Kill, Knock ’em Off
I Set A Few Tens For My Dog
I Be Up Still Wishin’ You Could Call
[Chorus]
F**k All The Opps, Know I Make ’em The Maddest
Like A Strict Teacher, Ain’t Giving Out Passes
You Better Duck When That Beam Get To Taggin’
We Love The Field, They Should Put Us On Madden
Hole In One, We Take It Solely Done
Tryna Score Like A Shot Through The Basket
Loadin’ Drums, We Leave Yo’ Soldiers Slumped
Swear They Empty Out Clips With A Passion
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