Summer Hate (feat. Rain)

The heat of a Seoul summer becomes something sinister in this track — Zico and Rain trade verses over a production that feels humid and restless, all low-frequency bass pulses and sharp hi-hat patterns that mimic sweat-drenched discomfort. The tempo sits at an uneasy mid-tempo, neither danceable nor still, caught in a liminal zone that perfectly mirrors the song's emotional subject: the particular toxicity of summer relationships, when heat amplifies everything — desire, resentment, jealousy — past the point of reason. Zico's delivery is sharp and sardonic, his rap cadence clipped and precise like accusations thrown casually. Rain brings a more melodic counterweight, his voice sliding between registers with the practiced ease of a veteran performer, adding an almost nostalgic ache to what could otherwise read as pure spite. The production pulls from contemporary trap-influenced Korean hip-hop but with a retro shimmer — there's something cinematic about it, like a slow-motion scene in a summer thriller. The song understands that hate and desire in a seasonal fling aren't opposites but the same feeling wearing different masks. This is music for sitting in a parked car at 2 a.m. with the windows down, replaying a conversation you wish had gone differently.