[Intro] Yo, Spidey! We need to talk about that promise! [Verse 1] You swung in saying, “Flip once, I’ll make it rain,” So I took the risk, put my sneakers on the plane. Back arched, feet snapped, landed clean on the mat, Now I’m checking every pocket like, “Where the cash at?” You vanished up a wall with a wink and a pose, Left me counting lint and the dust on my clothes. I don’t need web-shooters, I need what you said— A million in my account, not a note from the dead. [Pre-Chorus] You can sense danger, so sense this deadline, Your friendly neighborhood debt is standing in line. [Chorus] Yo, Spidey, where my money?! I did that flip, don’t make it funny! You said a million, now the bill is due, I stuck the landing—now stick to what you promised too! Yo, Spidey, where my money?! No web swing past, no disappearing act, honey! You can climb the skyline, dodge the view, But the rent still knows exactly what you owe me, dude! [Verse 2] You got spider-sense, but apparently no sense of pay, Turning every “I got you” into “maybe another day.” I trained in the alley, chalk line on the ground, You filmed the whole thing—there’s proof in 4K sound. That flip had torque, had form, had style, Had the neighbors applauding from half a mile. You said, “Big bucks, champ,” with your mask tilted high, Now your accountant’s hiding every time I walk by. [Bridge] I’m not asking for a castle, I’m not asking for fame, Just the cash you named when you offered the game. If the check got tangled in your web, cut it loose, If the vault needs a password, I’ll provide the proof. One flip, one deal, one promise on record— Pay the acrobat before this turns into a court order! [Chorus] Yo, Spidey, where my money?! I did that flip, don’t make it funny! You said a million, now the bill is due, I stuck the landing—now stick to what you promised too! Yo, Spidey, where my money?! No web swing past, no disappearing act, honey! You can climb the skyline, dodge the view, But the rent still knows exactly what you owe me, dude! [Outro] Check your web, check your vault, check the couch, check the suit— I’m the one who hit the backflip, now produce the loot! Friendly neighborhood hero, hear this final decree: Pay the flip fee, Spidey—then we’re cool with me!
