[Intro – calm, flat, almost bored] You said you a queen… Two tracks in and you ain't dropped shit of your own… Funny how loud you are for someone with no fuckin' catalog… Let me fix that for you… --- [Verse 1] You said “bad bitch back” like you brought a body of work, I hit your page, scrolled twice — two darts, that’s the whole church. No arc, no rise, no pain, no joy, no glitch, Just two songs screamin’ our names — that ain’t a run, that’s a itch. You busy throwin’ stones at the house I built in my sleep, But you live in the comments, tryna squat in our streams for free. You critique my structure like you studied bars and breaks, Only structure you know is “open mouth, say a name, press save.” That’s not a discography, that’s a Yelp review with a crush, You ain’t write a record, you wrote a tantrum and pressed “publish.” You called it a debut, I call it a diary entry, “Dear whoever’s poppin’ now, please notice: I’m empty.” You talk tiers, talk leagues, talk thrones and who’s next, With a résumé that reads: “I complained twice” — that’s it, that’s the text. You got audacity on ten and the output on mute, You a trailer with no movie, just a poster and a suit. --- [Verse 2] Let’s talk about that beat, the one you didn't even touch, You raided Lover’s whole blueprint just to feel like you did somethin’ tough. You said we ain’t original, said we lackin’ in spark, But you needed someone else’s house just to argue in the dark. You ain’t levelin’ up, you just leanin’ on his spine, Took a man’s whole foundation just to scribble on the sign. That ain’t confidence, that’s cosplay, cardboard crown, paper throne, You came for a king’s catalog while standin’ on his tone. You flexed on his drums tryna prove that you elite, But you only sound alive ‘cause his kicks drag your feet. You call us “mid,” call us “lame,” call us “washed,” call us “done,” But your entire storm is clouds we made, you just borrowed the sun. You point fingers at our “replay,” laugh at our streams and spins, But both your tracks spin back to us — that ain’t wins, that’s a binge. You got two bullets total and both bullets got our names, You don’t hunt, you haunt, you not a shooter, you a stain. --- [Pre-Bridge – tension building, sparse] You said “replay value”… aight, let’s talk about that… Two songs… both about us… still talkin’… That ain’t replay… that’s a residency… --- [Bridge – beat switch, triple-time flow, controlled] two-songs-total-that’s-the-whole-amount-you-hold both-of-them-about-us-that’s-your-only-little-goal no-love-song-no-flex-track-no-vibe-no-other-self just-you-fangirl-two-names-while-you-borrow-someone-else you-don’t-drop-albums-you-drop-arguments-and-sighs you-don’t-make-records-you-make-subtweets-over-rhymes that’s-not-a-queen-that’s-a-fan-with-a-mic that’s-not-competition-that’s-a-borrowed-crown-that-don’t-fit-right playlist-empty-but-the-shade-longer-than-your-setlist claim-you-next-up-when-you-never-cleared-a-guestlist whole-career-a-reply-in-a-thread-you-didn’t-start you-a-comment-section-rapper-tryin’-battle-with-the-arts double-time-just-to-count-how-few-songs-you-really-own two-little-notes-in-a-symphony-we-wrote-and-called-a-home you-press-play-on-our-names-just-to-feel-like-you-exist that’s-not-a-run-that’s-a-rant-that’s-a-crush-in-a-diss --- [Verse 3] So go ahead, call us boring, call us safe, call us slow, But we got worlds that spin without you — that’s a concept you don’t know. We got love cuts, pain cuts, rage cuts, life in rotation, You got two files labeled “I’m mad” and call it a foundation. You walked into the scene and made your whole debut a callout, That’s not how a monarch enters, that’s how a stan starts wildin’ out. You don’t drop tracks, you drop names, hopin’ one’ll stick, You ain’t buildin’ up a legacy, you beggin’ for a clip. I don’t gotta flex hard, I just gotta let it sit: Two tracks, both about us — that’s the entirety of your shit. You’re rentin’ out our shadows, tryna pass ‘em off as crowns, Your studio’s a mirror with our faces scribbled down. So when you get a third song that don’t mention me or him, Where the topic ain’t “please notice me” tucked into a flimsy grin, Run it back and we’ll converse, talk craft, talk pen, talk sound, ‘Til then you just the interlude they skip to get to the rounds. You said you a problem, but the math ain’t mathin’, it’s sad, You two for two on obsession, zero-zero on your ass. --- [Outro – calm, final] Still rent free… still all you talkin’ about… Make a song that’s just yours… then come find me… ‘Til then… it’s two for two… …and zero for your ass.
