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Lyrics
[Intro]
Mama hummin’ low
Bills stacked high
Baby need shoes
I just ask why (mm)
[Verse 1]
Cupboard got crumbs
Rent man knock
Say he need funds
I just stall, talk
Phone full of due dates
Fridge hum, half bare
Swipe, get that decline
Cashier just stare
Daddy got laid off
Steel mill shut
He got pride, got calloused hands
But they cut
We pray on the porch
Same old prayer
Storm rollin’ in
But the checks ain’t there
[Chorus]
Oh, hard times, pullin’ on my back (hey!)
Singin’ these blues just to stay on track
We don’t break, we bend, we sway
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day
Oh, hard times, shout it on that line
Stack that pain, turn it into rhyme
If we fall, we rise halfway
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day (hey!)
[Verse 2]
Food stamp card
That’s my gold
Got a cart full of “maybe”
Do the math, fold
Baby say, “Mama,
Why you always tired?”
’Cause the light in this house
Run on dreams and fire
Boss want blood
For a two-week check
Smile in my face
Boot on my neck
Still I hum that tune
From my grandma’s mouth
Turn my hurt to a chant
Shake the ground, shake the South
[Chorus]
Oh, hard times, pullin’ on my back (yeah!)
Singin’ these blues just to stay on track
We don’t break, we bend, we sway
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day
Oh, hard times, shout it on that line
Stack that pain, turn it into rhyme
If we fall, we rise halfway
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day (oh, hard times)
[Bridge]
Hands up high
If you carry that load
If your whole damn life
Feel like one long road
We gon’ stomp, we gon’ cry
We gon’ cuss, then pray
Turn our hurt to a holler
’Til the world make way (make way)
[Chorus]
Oh, hard times, pullin’ on my back
Singin’ these blues just to stay on track
We don’t break, we bend, we sway
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day
Oh, hard times, shout it on that line (that line)
Stack that pain, turn it into rhyme
If we fall, we rise halfway
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day (hey!)
Poor folk livin’ in a rich man’s day
Details
GeneratedFeb 17, 2026
Duration2:45
LanguageEnglish
Style
rap, Southern trap meets old work-song chantey; swampy guitar and dusty piano under booming 808s, ticking hi-hats, and aggressive scratch cuts. Female vocals upfront, gritty and soulful on the hooks, rhythmic and sharp on verses. Call-and-response gang vocals echo key phrases, with stomps and claps thickening the downbeats. Energy builds from sparse, ominous verses into a huge, chest-thumping chorus that feels like a crew hauling the weight together., female vocals, scratch
Credits
Prompt by
Refined
RefinedModelAria v5
Prompt
Rap song southern trap meets Old time chantey, female vocals upfront, verses about how hard life is as a poor family today., rap, trap, scratch turntables, 808s, chantey, negro chantey
