Prompt / Lyrics
[Intro] Rotten teeth, gold chain Burned-out porch, propane Shopping cart, blood stain We run this whole dirt lane [Verse 1] Rusty pit bull on a chain by the tire stack Baby on the hip, mama countin’ up the glass pack Camo hat, pistol in the belt, that’s a fact Mailman prayin’ when he walkin’ up the cul-de-sac Late rent, late night, white smoke in the vent Whole row of single wides smellin’ like cement Black truck idle at the stop sign, windows tint If you make the wrong move, you vanish, that’s it [Chorus] Trailer park meth mafia Mud on my kicks, but we bossin’ up From the tin roof drip to the plastic cup You can run through town, but you cross us, stuck Trailer park meth mafia Smoke in the sky, we the obvious From the busted swing set to the pop-top truck [Chorus] [Verse 2] Rotten wood porch, but the safe floor concrete Kids ridin’ in a circle where we used to cook heat Grandma watchin’ from the window with the old screen Rockin’ in a lawn chair, loadin’ magazines Tattoo needle in the kitchen by the sugar bowl Bible on the table, but it can’t save souls Sheriff hit the corner, see the whole crew froze Then we peel round back, stash the whole payroll [Bridge] [low vocal register] Dead lawns, live wires, bare feet on gravel [harsh screams] Whole block march like a dust-bowl battle Sirens in the distance, they fade, we cackle We the rusted crown kings in this vinyl castle [Chorus]
Tags
rap, Hybrid trap-metal with snarling distorted guitars locked to a hard drill-style groove, gliding sub-bass and rattling hats. Verses spit in rapid-fire cadences, doubled with screamed ad-libs; chorus goes halftime and huge with gang vocals and chugs. Sparse, eerie synth stabs in the breaks, then everything slams back in for a brutal final hook. Male vocals, gritty and pushed into saturation., metal
Duration
2:07
Instrumental
No
Created
1/8/2026