There Goes My Plan! (Etoille Response Round 7 Remix 2026)

[Intro: Dark piano, vinyl crackle] Well, well, well... Twenty-nine remixes? Seventeen musicians? I asked ONE question! [Giggle, boom-bap drop] [Verse 1: Sharp female rap] Hold up, Majesty, let's get the record straight, You said dig deeper, so I checked the date. Scrolled back through July, saw the whole scene, Your name in the credits, my face on the screen. Three remixes of mine, that's the number I gave, Not your whole catalogue, darling, behave! Twenty-nine total? Impressive collection, But three were of mine, that was my recollection. [Flow switch: Tight internal rhymes] Asked who was following whom, you answered for me, Brought seventeen players to confirm it was thee! Same bob, same glasses, saw the art, You were remixing my records before the start. I followed you back 'cause I liked what I heard, Loved your tracks, every compliment earned. No shame in respect, no need to pretend, Good music's good music, my talented friend. [Rapid fire] Dates, facts, brass stacks, twenty-nine on the count, I mentioned three of my tracks, now look at the amount! Horns in the air, got the whole damn crew, To answer one question with "DARLING, IT WAS YOU!" [Beat cut] You were first? Wonderful! Saved me the paperwork. [Giggle] [Chorus: Boom-bap, 808] THERE GOES MY PLAN! (Hey!) THERE GOES MY SHOT! (Ha!) Thought you had a secret, something hidden from view, Then you came back swinging and confirmed what I knew! I HAD MY BARS! I HAD MY FLOW! I'll give you your flowers, that arrangement was tight, But you handed me the answer before I could fight! [DJ scratch: "WHO WAS FIRST?" "YOU WERE!"] [Transition: Piano] So, since you're here proving my point... Why don't we help you write your next track? [Cheeky giggle] Get your notebook out, Your Majesty. I'll even give you the ammunition. [Heavy beat drop] [Verse 2: Self-roast, rapid rap] I'm forty-four, got a memory like a sieve, Forget what I was doing in the middle of what I did. Walk into a room, can't remember why, Blame the damn furniture for catching my eye. Introverted mouse with a goddess complex, Write a thousand flirty bars, then panic at a text. Mouth like a weapon when the microphone's on, Someone actually notices me? Poof! I'm gone. [Flow switch: Dense internal rhymes] Socially invisible, lyrically criminal, Confidence fictional, stage presence mythical. Big talk, small mouse, hiding in the house, Queen-sized declarations from a quiet little mouse. Flirt with every woman in a fictional dimension, In reality I'm dodging all unwanted attention. Shout "I AM THE DEITY!" with a heavenly choir, Get my groceries delivered, never meet the buyer. [Beat cut] Glasses? Real. Confidence? Entirely fictional. [Rapid fire: Stripped 808] Forgotten dates, catalogue for days, Dozen different genres, hundred different ways To embarrass myself before you get the chance, Goddess on a record, too shy to dance! You brought the tuba, brass, the whole parade, I brought every little flaw I've ever displayed. Take notes, Your Majesty, I've handed you the list, Now tell me what you've got that this mouse has missed! [Beat stops] You're welcome. [Scratch: "NO REFUNDS!"] [Bridge: Bare piano, spoken] Twenty-nine remixes. Three of mine. Seventeen musicians. And I'm the one who can't count? [Laugh] I had a dramatic reveal planned! You were supposed to look surprised! Not write the bloody evidence yourself! [Verse 3: Fast battle rap] Strategy in pieces, microphone in hand, You're conducting brass while I'm rewriting the plan. Came prepared for battle, you came prepared with proof, Now we're laughing as the bass blows off the roof. No throne to steal, no crown to claim, Still two mad musicians escalating the game. You got your history, I got my rhyme, Both making music, having one hell of a time. [Flow switch] Scratch that, snap back, rewind the track, Gave you your flowers, now I'm taking my mic back! Old school, new rules, let the rhythms collide, Shy little mouse with a goddess inside. You brought the orchestra, I brought the confession, Turned my embarrassment into ammunition. You know my flaws now, I've given you plenty, What's your next move, Mr Twenty-Nine-Twenty? [Beat cut] Wait... that didn't rhyme. [Giggle] More ammunition! [Final Chorus: Explosive] THERE GOES MY PLAN! (Hey!) THERE GOES MY SHOT! (Ha!) Thought you had a secret, but I knew what I knew! Had my bars all ready, then the answer came from you! I'll give you your flowers, that arrangement was tight, But you handed me the punchline before I could fight! [Outro: Piano, vinyl crackle, fading bass] Oh! Since I handed you ammo for your next track... Need my details? For the royalties, darling. [Cheeky giggle] I'll send an invoice. By all means, invite me back. But perhaps it's time we stepped off Airin's lawn... And gave the poor woman her garden back. Seven rounds of trampling flowers! [Soft laugh] Next time, Your Majesty... Let's bring our own stage. Mwah!