

Prompt / Lyrics
Intro Yeah… Don’t look at me like that… You know what you’re doing. Verse 1 Room reeks of lust and old cocaine dreams, Bathroom light buzzing like it hates what it’s seen. You bend at the bar, slow grind in your spine, Like you’re winding a fuse, killing time. Sweat slick on denim, clinging obscene, You turn—God help me—tight-fitting jeans. Pre-Chorus You don’t smile, you bare your teeth, That look says use me, don’t believe. Every inch of you knows the scheme, Dragging me down into something mean. Chorus Tight-fitting jeans and low-cut tee’s, Got my blood thick, my hands not clean. You ain’t touched me, but you’re inside my head, Tight-fitting jeans and low-cut tee’s. You move like sex with bad intentions, Make a hard man beg for permission. Verse 2 Lipstick cracked like a sin you wear, You lick it slow, like you don’t care. Your knee rides up, presses in, A silent “yes” carved under my skin. Your breath tastes like smoke and heat, You whisper filth like a fucking priest. Pre-Chorus Say my name like you’re marking me, Like I won’t crawl, like I won’t bleed. Clock on the wall’s just dead weight now, When your body’s making promises your mouth won’t allow. Chorus Tight-fitting jeans and low-cut tee’s, You fuck me up without touching me. Slow torture, baby, sweet and obscene, Tight-fitting jeans and low-cut tee’s. You grind that edge, don’t set me free, Just ride me hard in the in-between. Bridge Bathroom stall, lock clicks shut, Your nails dig deep, drawing blood. No romance, just heat and need, Sweat dripping down bare belief. You pull me close, whisper “don’t be gentle,” And I lose whatever was ever essential. Breakdown Bite marks, bruises, breath gone wrong, You laugh when I lose control. You like it rough, you like it dark, You like to leave a fucking mark. Chorus Tight-fitting jeans and low-cut tee’s, Midnight sin, no apologies. You don’t love me, you consume me, Tight-fitting jeans and low-cut tee’s. You fuck like fire, you leave like a thief, Take your pleasure, leave your teeth in me. Outro Sun comes up, shame still warm, Your jeans on the floor, my soul torn. I’ll smell you later in whiskey dreams, Tight-fitting jeans… Low-cut tee’s.
Tags
Blues, rock, soulful, electric guitar driven, guitar solo, drum kicks, tempo, black male gritty vocals
4:14
No
1/11/2026