Song Cover Image

Claim Stub

JoeProAI
JoeProAI
Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, 114 BPM melodic rap, pillowed kick, crisp snare, honey bass glide, clean guitar hook, smoke-throated bars, shouted chorus, ‑indie, ‑soft, ‑gentle, ‑sleepy, ‑lullaby, ‑whisper, ‑industrial, ‑trap hi-hat rolls, ‑drill, ‑choir, ‑gang shouts, ‑crowd chants, ‑Soft Fire, ‑lo-fi, ‑brass, ‑ballad, ‑piano, ‑organ, ‑keyboards, ‑metal, ‑slide guitar, ‑808, ‑cowbell, ‑punk, ‑country, ‑twang, ‑opera, ‑gospel, ‑funk, ‑ska, ‑horror, ‑Halloween, ‑generic rap voice, ‑crooning, ‑crooner, ‑breathy, ‑talk-sing, ‑hushed, ‑legato, ‑silky, ‑smooth, ‑half-spoken, ‑close-mic, ‑spoken, ‑spoken word, ‑mumble, ‑mumble rap, ‑whispered, ‑laid-back, ‑low-energy, ‑thin vocal, ‑auto-tune, ‑dubstep, ‑EDM drop, ‑R&B, ‑emo, ‑reggaeton, ‑dancehall, ‑strings, ‑warm mid-range male vocal, ‑warm mid-range female vocal, ‑male vocals
V6

[Verse 1: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, smooth but loud, every line on the snare] Door rope nights and a window of steam I take every coat like I take every name Ticket on the collar and a smile for the tip Wool for the banker, leather for the kid I do not need numbers when the faces walk by I hang by the story and the scent on the skin Rain on the shoulders, perfume on the cuff I know who is who when the night gets rough February freeze and I work in a tee Gave my own coat to a girl who looked weak Told myself spring was a couple weeks out Wore the staff hoodie and I toughened my mouth [Pre-Chorus: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, building, louder every line] Then a tray tipped over and the stubs hit the floor Numbers went swimming and the system was poor [Chorus: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, shouted, full chest] I know that coat, I hung it myself Not by the ticket, by the person who left Call out your color and the night that you wore I know that coat, I hung it before [Verse 2: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, stub storm, the ticket box tips and stubs rain over a bare beat, then the full drums crash when she finds her own ticket at the bottom] Stubs in the air like a paper-made rain Banker gets wool and the kid gets the chain Dancer gets faux and the poet gets tweed I match every face to the thing that they need Down at the bottom of the box in the mess A ticket with my writing and a coffee-cup crest Number I wrote on a night I felt kind The coat on the end of the rack was mine [Chorus: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, shouted, full chest] I know that coat, I hung it myself Not by the ticket, by the person who left Call out your color and the night that you wore I know that coat, I hung it before [Bridge: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, softer then exploding] I gave it away and I worked in the cold Told myself stories about being bold Now it comes back on a hanger of fate Same missing button and the same crooked date [Verse 3: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, smiling hard, full chest] I put it on slow in the back of the booth Smell of that February still in the wool Girl who I lent it to left me a note Said thank you, it got her home safe in the snow I clock out warm for the first time in weeks Stub in my pocket for the nights that I keep If the tickets get lost I will still get it right I know every coat that walked into my night [Chorus: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, shouted, full chest] I know that coat, I hung it myself Not by the ticket, by the person who left Call out your color and the night that you wore I know that coat, I hung it before [Outro: Smoke-throated Brooklyn female MC, proud and loud, the last stub flutters and fades] I know that coat It was mine All along [End]