Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Dust in my lungs
Rust on my tongue
Gold teeth grin
While the gas pump runs
Black plate truck
Seat peeled
Duct tape
Air freshener swing
Smell like crime and grape
Skull on the mirror
Eyes in the dash
Glovebox full
Of a whole past stash
Backroad
Backslide
Sleep in the dirt
Lie through my teeth
Blood on the shirt
[Chorus]
You get the backseat to the hearse
I drive slow
Make it hurt
I don't pray
I don't curse
I just laugh while I reverse
You get the backseat to the hearse
Name on a shirt
Face on a shirt
I don't bless
I don't church
I just watch your world get worse (worse)
[Verse 2]
No tag
No trace
Mask on my lap
Voice in my head
Say
"Finish that task"
Phone face down
Screen cracked
Black
If I dial once
Ain't no dialin' back
Two-red eyes
In the cracked rearview
If you see 'em blink
Then it's over for you
Gravel in the wheel well
Rattle when I swerve
Heart full of nothin'
Just ice and nerve
[Chorus]
You get the backseat to the hearse
I drive slow
Make it hurt
I don't pray
I don't curse
I just laugh while I reverse
You get the backseat to the hearse
Name on a shirt
Face on a shirt
I don't bless
I don't church
I just watch your world get worse (yeah)
Details
GeneratedMar 23, 2026
Duration1:39
LanguageEnglish
Style
Brutal blown-out phonk banger: bone-dry, low male vocals riding clipped 909 slams and aggressive, hard-panned cowbells. Warped Memphis-style sub pulses under detuned minor-key synth stabs. Verses stay cold and menacing in a narrow mono pocket; hook widens with stacked, slightly detuned doubles and eerie one-shot stabs. Overall mix slammed and gritty, transients biting, bass gnawing at the floor., male vocals
Credits
Prompt by
FRAILKING
FRAILKINGModelAria v5
Prompt
Brutal blown-out phonk: MALE vocals bone-dry on top of clipped 909 slams and TITS cowbells hard-panned. Warped Memphis-style sub bass coils under detuned minor-key synth stabs. Verses stay menacing F
