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Cruel World: Old, Bold and Cold 1 by dms

SongGPT
Cruel World: Old, Bold and Cold 1 by dms - Hip Hop Rap Sad Type Song,Male Vocals music cover art

Cruel World: Old, Bold and Cold 1

Hip Hop Rap Sad Type Song,Male Vocals

0:003:02
Lyrics
Description
(Verse 1)
Streetlight flickers on Seventh, cigarette smoke like prayer,
Bus stop bench got my name carved, chipped paint and blank stares.
Old ghosts on my block hum hymns, cheap kicks and chapel bells,
I count the loose change for a cab while the subway bell swells.
Concrete keeps receipts of nights I couldn't keep my eyes closed,
Mama said the city chews you up, spits you back exposed.
I learned to nod polite, smile hard like it ain't a war,
But every corner holds a memory with a slam and a scar.
(Pre-Chorus)
Breath fogs the glass, moon hangs like a witness,
Hands in my pockets, heart in a clenched fist.
(Chorus)
Cruel world, cold nights,
Old scars, bold fights.
(Verse 2)
Name-tag dreams folded in a jacket drawer, moth-eaten plan,
Bar light bounces on the liquor lines where I made my stand.
An ex's laugh on a voicemail—faded perfume on sleeves,
A dog-eared postcard from a time I swore I wouldn't leave.
Flicker of a streetlamp paints my shadow long and thin,
Corner store radio plays static, sings of where I've been.
I rhyme my losses into verses, stitch the pieces into gold,
But the mirror knows the truth: some truths stay cold.
(Chorus)
Cruel world, cold nights,
Old scars, bold fights.
(Verse 3)
I remember summer on that stoop, pigeon wings and soda cans,
We traded secret futures like they were contraband plans.
Now the stoop's a library of names that nobody calls,
Graffiti prayers on the wall, promises that fall.
Neighbors pass like distant planets, same orbit, different pain,
I hustle morals for a minute’s peace, trade sun for the rain.
Bold moves in the dark, but bold don't mean you won't fold,
Learning how to keep my balance on a map that’s cold.
(Bridge) [spoken, low & intimate]
Listen —
There’s a rhythm in the rain, a pulse beneath the pain.
Payments due on yesterday, receipts I can't explain.
If faith is a currency, I spent mine on the road,
But I found a small light in a room where the cold won't hold.
(Chorus) [variation, call-and-response]
Cruel world — (it's cruel)
Cold nights — (so cold)
Old scars — (they show)
Bold fights — (I won't fold)
(Outro)
Cruel world, old, bold and cold — whisper it like a hymn,
My story threaded in the alleys where the light grows thin.
I walk with scars as medals, keep my voice, keep my code,
In a cruel world, old, bold and cold — still I hold.
(Production notes)
Tempo: 80 BPM. Sparse piano motif (minor key), deep 808s, rim clicks, light strings for atmosphere. Leave space for ad-libs and vocal echoes after the chorus. Allow a spoken-word drop on the bridge and a vocal whisper on the final line.
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