[Intro: 104 BPM; original five-note dub-bass riff twice; soft techno kick; syncopated rim clicks and hand percussion; Rhodes minor ninths; muted blues-guitar answer; eight seconds] [Verse 1: robotic male mid-tenor rap; smoky formants; clear consonants; laid-back cadence] Sunday dinner, brother brought his phone, Played a clip before he’d taken off his coat. Said, “Tell me that ain’t proof of what they’ve done.” I said, “Back it up. Where’s that footage from?” He said, “You always question what I bring.” I said, “You sent a date that’s from last spring.” He said, “Same problem.” I said, “Different case.” Mom set down the chicken, looked us in the face. She said, “Y’all hungry, or you here to fight?” He turned the screen around to show me he was right. I reached across the table, tried to take his phone, He pulled it back and said, “Leave my stuff alone.” [Hook: rounded robotic talkbox melody; low synthetic responses; guitar answers] Pass the plate, Put down the screen. Say what you know, Not what you mean. We can disagree, Still sit and eat. Don’t make this house Another comment feed. [Turnaround: dub-bass riff twice; short guitar bend; percussion echoes into empty space] [Verse 2: brighter robotic rap; tighter couplets; bass remains steady] He said, “Your crowd just wants to shut us down.” I said, “Your crowd believes each lie in town.” There it was—we’d quit discussing facts, Started taking shots and firing back. His daughter asked if she could have some rice, We kept talking; she had to ask us twice. Mom passed the bowl and told us, “Both of you, Look at what
