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Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Two white boys tatted, arms all script
Riding in a matte black shark, whole lane get skipped
Windows down, smoke out, breeze feel thick
Bay Shore back roads, whole block know this whip (skrrt)
Strapped up, tucked deep in the stash spot
Eyes on the rear cam, mind on the last plot
My boy call plays like a made man mascot
Say a name once and your address get screenshot
[Chorus]
Blacked-out scatpack, demons in the backseat (backseat)
Everybody flinch when they hear that track squeak (hey!)
My boy call the shots, you just talk, you just act weak
Made man, make rap, make the whole block stampede
Blacked-out scatpack, rumble through the same street
Tats on the hand, every handshake a gang meet
My boy call the shots, you just talk, you just daydream
Made man, make rap, make the wrong ones day bleed
[Verse 2]
Gold teeth grin, got the dash lit evil
Bay Shore boys turn a quiet night lethal
T-shirt plain, but the safe full sequels
Every lil mission got a part two, three, equal
Phone on mute, but the money still dial in
Ops say our name, see the color leave they iris
Pistol in the panel, paranoia turn violent
Whole car silent, but the aura stay sirens (woo)
[Chorus]
Blacked-out scatpack, demons in the backseat (backseat)
Everybody flinch when they hear that track squeak
My boy call the shots, you just talk, you just act weak (yeah)
Made man, make rap, make the whole block stampede
Blacked-out scatpack, rumble through the same street
Tats on the hand, every handshake a gang meet
My boy call the shots, you just talk, you just daydream
Made man, make rap, make the wrong ones day bleed
Details
GeneratedMar 17, 2026
Duration1:39
LanguageEnglish
Style
rap, Aggressive trap banger, male vocals; heavy 808s and rattling hi-hats under a sinister bell loop. Verses tight and conversational with ad-libs, hook explodes with stacked gang vocals and sub-bass drops. Occasional filtered drops on key punchlines, then slamming back in for maximum car-shake energy.
Credits
Prompt by
chrismichael331
chrismichael331ModelAria v5
Prompt
Two white boys tatted rolling around in a blacked out scatpack windows down strolling through bay shore strapped heavy in the car niggas be fearing us my boy be calling the shots made man makin rap
