Velvet Smoke & Dirty Glass

AI-generated Rap song · 3:45 · 9 plays

Lyrics

Intro
Strobe on
Red fog breathing
Leather on chrome
Money like season

Chorus
Porn on the wall, vodka in the blood
Cash on the floor, diamonds in the mud
Sex in the air, perfume, sweat, and drugs
Whole club drowning, drowning in this flood
Porn on the wall, vodka in the blood
Cash on the floor, diamonds in the mud
Sex in the air, lust thick as a rug
Whole room shaking when the bassline thugs (yeah)

Verse 1 – Male Rap
Walk in, rich, smell trouble on me
Two glass bottles and a brick on the seat
Big black SUV, park crooked on the curb
Tattooed hands still sticky from the work
I don’t tip, I invest in the sin
Twenty grand band on her waist, let it spin
All my dogs lean in when the lights get low
If she climb that pole, that’s a bankroll show (uh)
Gold teeth flash, that’s a code in the dark
She eye-fuck me from across the bar
She don’t love me, she love the risk
The chain, the watch, and the clenched-up fist
Backroom deals on a velvet couch
Short skirt girl with a long-ass mouth
Whisper in my ear ’bout the tricks she do
Said, “I take your soul and your rent money too” (goddamn)

Verse 2 – Female Rap (Stripper 1)
He throwin’ blue notes, think he own my time
Baby, I been rich off this filthy mind
Body like sin, and I tax that pride
Make him pay double just to touch my thigh
Ass out, tits out, heels like knives
Every step cut through his hard-ass life
He a “street king” till I sit on his lap
Then he moan like a bitch while I twist his cap (mm)
Vodka on my tongue, I spit in his glass
He drink my curse, then he kiss my ass
I ride that pole like I’m robbin’ a bank
Slide upside down, let the sweat just rain
He slap that skin, I slap his ego
Grab his chain, whisper, “Feed my people”
You buyin’ this flesh, not stealin’ my soul
I drain his stash while I grind slow (slow)

Pre-Chorus – Female Rap (Stripper 1)
You want porn in the flesh?
Put the cash on my neck
If your pockets ain’t wet
You ain’t touchin’ this sweat (nah)

Verse 3 – Male Rap
Another bottle cracked, that’s a fucked-up night
My cup more toxic than my whole damn life
Black card flex when the bouncers nod
If the cops come through, then the cameras off
Thick brown girl with the snake-eye stare
Tattoo on her hip say “don’t play fair”
She climb on the table, I lose my head
She pour cold liquor on my warm bare chest
My homie in the back with a blonde on his lap
She sniff white lines off his fresh new tats
We toast to the lies, toast to the dirt
Toast to the judge that we probably gon’ hurt
Whole clique fired up, pockets obscene
We ain’t buyin’ dreams, only buyin’ the scene
You can feel the crime in the air I

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