Humble Pie, Asshole

Verse 1 You came around like a bad smell in the room, bringing hell in your hands and calling it truth. You wanted dinner hot, house clean, mouth shut, like every woman alive was born to kiss your butt. You’d start shit with Mama, then act like the prize, standing there smug with that dead little look in your eyes. You weren’t a father, you were a walking damn storm, only showed up to make love feel unsafe and worn. Pre-Chorus Yeah, you taught me plenty, I’ll give you that, how to spot a coward in a grown man’s hat. How a child learns silence when fear gets loud, how a king is just trash with an ego and a crown. Verse 2 You looked at women like things you could own, like hearts were for serving and bodies were thrones. Equal? Please, you couldn’t handle the word. A strong woman talking was the scariest thing you heard. You punished me hard for being alive, then disappeared like that made you wise. Funny how a ghost can still slam every door, funny how “family” can feel like war. Pre-Chorus You called it respect, but it smelled like control. Called it tradition while it rotted your soul. You wanted obedience, pretty and sweet, but bitch, I grew teeth underneath. Chorus So compliments to the chef, you cooked up this mess. Served fear on a plate and called it your best. You wanted women quiet, wanted children in line, but fuck that, old man, I got my own damn spine. You wanted fresh cooked meals? Here’s your humble pie. Eat it slow, motherfucker, let it burn while you cry. You can keep your throne, you can keep your shame. I got your fire, but I won’t carry your name. Bridge You don’t get applause for barely being there. You don’t get respect just because I was scared. You don’t get to break me and call it love. You don’t get a halo for doing the bare minimum once. Don’t come hungry. Don’t come proud. Don’t come asking why I’m so loud. I learned from your bullshit, I learned from your rage, then I burned your script and walked off the stage. Final Chorus So compliments to the chef, you cooked up this mess. Served fear on a plate and called it your best. You wanted women quiet, well, surprise, I can scream. You built me from anger and forgot I had dreams. You wanted fresh cooked meals? Here’s your humble pie. Choke on the truth you buried in lies. You can keep your throne, you can keep your old ways. I’m done paying rent in your fucked-up maze. Outro No, you don’t get the last word. No, you don’t get my peace. You were never my master. You were just weak. And I’m not your servant. I’m not your prize. I’m the daughter you fucked with— and somehow, I survived.