Lifers Group’s “Count My Blessings” is A Testimony in Gratitude

Three decades ago, prison rap didn’t exist as a category. It existed as a fact of life for the men who invented it. Lifers Group is one of the few groups left who can say that with a straight face, and “Count My Blessings,” their new single with X-Raided, sounds like proof of the claim rather than a nostalgia act cashing in on it.

What strikes you first isn’t the production, though the late Phase 5’s beat is melodic in a way that almost undercuts the weight of the subject matter, an uptempo bounce riding underneath lyrics about confinement and loss. It’s the tone. This isn’t a group performing survival for effect. Lifers Group has been documenting incarceration since before most contemporary rappers were born, and on this track that experience shows in the difference between performance and testimony. Where younger artists often narrate prison as a badge, Lifers Group treats it as a wound they’re still tending, three and four decades later.

The pairing with X-Raided gives the song its structural spine. Two artists, two coasts, one shared biography: both served life sentences, both built their art inside cells rather than studios. Their verses don’t compete for space so much as confirm each other, a kind of call and response between men who don’t need to explain themselves to one another, only to us.

The title does real work here. “Count My Blessings” isn’t ironic. Where “Prison Life” and “State N#mber,” the two singles that preceded this one, dealt in warning and documentation, this track turns toward gratitude: the strange, complicated relief of having made it out when so many others didn’t. That shift matters. It reframes the entire project, hinting at where the group’s forthcoming album, reportedly titled “Takin No Prisoners,” intends to go. Not just chronicling the damage of incarceration, but sitting with what it means to survive it.

Is it a “fun” listen? No. It isn’t meant to be. But as hip-hop’s conversation around prison reform grows louder, and as more artists treat jail time as content rather than consequence, “Count My Blessings” is a necessary corrective. A reminder that somewhere underneath all the performative toughness, there are people who actually paid the price the genre likes to romanticize.