Lyrics
[Verse]
Frost on the window, breath turn to smoke,
Hood icy, streets bitter, dreams ain't no joke.
Corner store heaters, cold nights we cope,
Bros moving packs, hope sealed in an envelope.
Puff clouds, gray skies, time moving slow,
Snow on the block, same white they flip for dough.
Trap house whispers, shadows in the glow,
Frozen ambitions, but the fire still below.
[Chorus]
Hood cold, but the block still burns,
Bros stay tight, we take our turns.
Weed in the air, lessons we learn,
Winter in the trap, where the tables churn.
[Verse 2]
Stacks in the shoebox, stash in the floor,
Bare walls witness what we endure.
Hands numb, counting up what’s secure,
Winter chill biting, but the hustle's pure.
Plates in the kitchen, no food to cook,
Just scales and bags, no time for the books.
Blueprints scribbled in the coldest nooks,
Survival’s a song, and we wrote the hook.
[Chorus]
Hood cold, but the block still burns,
Bros stay tight, we take our turns.
Weed in the air, lessons we learn,
Winter in the trap, where the tables churn.
Details
GeneratedDec 11, 2025
Duration1:56
LanguageEnglish
Style
creating a cold and atmospheric trap vibe, heavy, bass-driven; layered with haunting synths and crisp percussion, dark, rap
Credits
Prompt byLyricPattern546
ModelAria v5
Prompt
rap, about hood, bros, weed, winter, trap
