[Intro: Wet gas pump FX, vape hiss, awkward inhale into cheap mic] “I’m not married, bitch… I just share your wife…” [Spoken FX: Echoed sarcastic voice] “Those are my kids, muh-fucka…” [Sound FX: Gas nozzle dribble, fart reverbed in stereo] [Build: 8-bit riser with squelch FX, toilet flush layered under bass swell] “You don’t know how you got them kids, man…” [Spoken FX: Mocked in robot voice] “Vladdy Daddy… fill me up…” [Drop: Bitcrushed synth wobble, detuned choir pads, and fart bass blasts] You ain’t gettin’ laid, just gettin’ loud Screamin’ online to an invisible crowd “Filled her up,” bitch, you filled a sock Premium virgin with a broken pump cock (Talk that shit, cry off cam) (Said it’s Rumble, but it’s just your spam) You say you stretch? Nah, you stress Can’t fuck, so you fake it on a flat earth desk [Verse: Glitched dub groove with distorted vocal chops] You Navy boys pump fuel, not facts Still a bitch-ass muh-fucka duckin’ all the cracks Sayin’ “she leaking” like it means something Bro, she dry as your chat when the trolls start dumping No game, no rizz, just cope on tap Talkin’ sex while you rage in a Discord trap “My kids”? — imaginary flex Your sperm dried out from neglect and stress (Ego leakin’ like a busted pipe) (Said you stretch? Bro, not her type) [Drop: Rapid-fire kick stutters, gas-station PA noise, pitched-down “Vladdy Daddy”] You jerk off to your own debates Calling Brenda names while you masturbate Say it’s ‘cause of flat earth chicks won’t fuck Nah, it’s cause you’re a greasy, loud-mouth cuck You cry when they troll, turn your Rumble off Then blame the Earth like that shit’s tough But it ain’t gravity that made you dry It’s your whole ass life, bitch, don’t lie [Chorus: Detuned rave melody, voice FX looping] “premium…premium…premium” Vladdy Daddy, beatin’ your meat Braggin’ ’bout gas but can’t take the heat Say “I stretch her” like it’s a feat When your own dick limp like your YouTube seat (“She goes to you leakin’…”) yeah right (She muted the stream and swiped left that night) All this talk, no real clout Fake tough guy with a broken route Said you filled her with 93 — that’s strange She said “I’d rather ride the fuckin’ A-range” [Breakdown: Minimal beat, troll laughter in background, gas station ambiance] “You don’t know how you got them kids, man…” [Spoken FX: Flat voice] “Because they don’t fucking exist, Vlad.” “You probably couldn’t even get it up…” [Sound FX: Dial-up modem dying slowly, wet flop] [Verse: Sarcastic monologue delivery, filtered stutter FX] You go live like it’s group therapy Trolls log in just to watch your parody Bragging ‘bout “work” like it’s sexual war But you only “blow backs out” on metaphor (Two pumps in and you’re winded, bro) (Can’t spell G-A-S without that ego) Military vet with a virgin score Talks about sex like a fourteen-year-old bore You ain’t got a wife, you got a fantasy And it’s melting down on stream for free [Outro: Sad electronic piano loop, faint gas pump beep repeating] “Filled her up… filled her up… filled her up…” [Final glitch loop: Vocal sample repeating] “premium… muh-fucka…” [Spoken FX: Troll voice, flat delivery] “That ain’t your kid, that’s your ego cryin’.” [Ambient FX: Chat disabled click, Vlad mic peaking, silence]
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