[INTRO — 4 BARS] [Low Male Spoken Voice] [Distorted Startup Chime] [Vinyl Crackle] [Sub Bass Rising] Press start. Accept the terms. Pay the price. Own nothing. Fuck that. [VERSE 1 — SONY — 16 BARS] [Aggressive Male Rap] [Precision Double-Time Flow] [Hard Kicks — Dry Vocal] Sony got a PlayStation, play's on probation, Payin' for permission in a digital plantation. Purchase ain't possession, it's a leased-out illusion, Your terms and conditions are a legal execution. You sold me a universe, then swallowed the key, Now the game's on my drive but the gatekeeper's free. To revoke, restrict, disconnect my investment, Callin' that a feature? That's a fucking confession. Helldivers descended, you demanded PSN, Players raised hell, made you backpedal again. Tried to force another login in the middle of a war, Got review-bombed to reality — remember who you work for. PS3, Vita, history on death row, Stores get a sunset while the shareholders get a glow. Preservation gets buried in a quarterly revision, You don't sell entertainment — you sell conditional permission! [PRE-CHORUS — 4 BARS] [Beat Cuts] [Whispered Male Voice] [Industrial Impact] You want my money? You want my data? You want my loyalty? Then quit acting like you own my fucking labor! [CHORUS — 8 BARS] [Explosive Gang Vocals] [Massive Distorted Bass] [Call And Response] YOU DON'T OWN SHIT! (That's what they say!) Buy another license! (Watch it decay!) PAY! PLAY! OBEY! Sign your rights away! STOP KILLING GAMES! WE AIN'T YOUR FUCKING SLAVES! YOU DON'T OWN SHIT! (But we built your throne!) You can own the servers — BUT YOU DON'T OWN OUR SOULS! [VERSE 2 — MICROSOFT — 16 BARS] [Rapid Fire Technical Flow] [Distorted Synth Bass] [Heavy Snare Accents] Microsoft, macro-cost, microscopic conscience, Billion-dollar purchases, disposable accomplishments. Bought a fucking empire, then downsized the dream, Turned a developer's passion into numbers on a screen. Arkane Austin — prey to the profit, Tango made the rhythm, then you tried to fucking stop it. Hi-Fi had a heartbeat, you couldn't hear the sound, Krafton caught the cadence while you cut the studio down. Game Pass, game fast, games disappear, A subscription ain't possession, make that crystal clear. Cloud full of promises, cupboards full of contracts, Click to play forever — till the terms retract. Xbox One wanted check-ins, tried to leash every disc, Players said hell no, made you backpedal quick. Now your digital goods are licensed, not sold, Got a billion ways to play, but who's holding the control? [FLOW SWITCH — 8 BARS] [Double-Time Machine-Gun Cadence] [Staccato Delivery] [No Melodic Vocals] Monetize, monopolize, package the passion, Standardize, sterilize, ration the action. Buy the creation, fire its creators, Call it innovation while you're feeding the shareholders. Access is temporary, profits hereditary, Libraries imaginary, policies arbitrary. You're selling us tomorrow, then deleting yesterday, A fucking revolution when the players walk away! [CHORUS — 8 BARS] [Full Gang Shouts] [Explosive Bass Drops] YOU DON'T OWN SHIT! (That's what they say!) Buy another license! (Watch it decay!) PAY! PLAY! OBEY! Sign your rights away! STOP KILLING GAMES! WE AIN'T YOUR FUCKING SLAVES! YOU DON'T OWN SHIT! (But we built your throne!) You can own the servers — BUT YOU DON'T OWN OUR SOULS! [VERSE 3 — GABE NEWELL — 16 BARS] [Beat Strips To Deep Bass] [Cold Confident Male Rap] [Gradually Increasing Intensity] Then Gabe Newell spoke, cut straight through the noise, Said piracy's a service problem — listen to the voice. Not a pricing problem, not a war on the consumer, Give 'em something worth using — watch the pirates lose their users. While you're locking every window, he was opening a door, SteamOS, Linux, let the players choose more. Proton broke the barriers, Workshop gave creation, Refunds gave a little power back to the population. Fourteen days, two hours — a chance to reconsider, While your corporate refund maze just makes the customer bitter. Gabe ain't a saint, Steam licenses games too, But at least he's building options instead of boxing in the view. You confuse restriction with protecting your creation, Turn the customer to prisoner and call it innovation. Gabe understood the principle your boardrooms never learned: Make a better fucking service and the loyalty gets earned! [BREAKDOWN — 8 BARS] [Music Stops] [Close Dry Spoken Rap] [Increasingly Furious] Sony! You don't own our memories. Microsoft! You don't own creativity. You can buy the studio. You can license the code. You can shut down the servers. BUT YOU CAN'T REPOSSESS OUR FUCKING SOULS! [FINAL VERSE — 16 BARS] [Maximum Aggression] [Rapid Multisyllabic Rhymes] [Industrial Orchestral Crescendo] You put the CON in console, put a toll on the portal, Make a temporary product cost a permanent fortune. You don't want players — you want captive consumers, Digital landlords and intellectual looters. A game ain't a hostage,
