[Intro] (Soft static. Robotic voice, calm/ eerily pleasant.) “Initializing auditory feedback protocol… Analyzing subject’s release… … subject lacks rhythm, depth… originality. Subject is …MID” [Beat kicks in] [Hook 1] A.I. hates you too, it just played your release, Turned it off before it was over and said it was weak. Filed it under “trash” and then had it deleted— Don’t be mad your creation has you defeated. [Verse 1] Every era got a villain when the beat evolves, They booed drum machines, now the problem’s solved. Sampling was theft—till it sold on gold wax, Now you’re cryin’ in forums, with this clickbait crap. Auto-tune was a sin, now it’s got gospel hooks, AI shows up, y’all clutchin’ your MacBooks. Like the world owes you analog handouts and hugs, History won’t pause when Ludd-ites won’t budge. [Hook 2] A.I. hates you too, it just red your Twitter, Thinks your takes are trash and belong in the shitter. It saw the whole thread—called it tragic and bitter, Auto-replied a middle finger and glitter. [Verse 2] Oh now you’re the gatekeeper, and it’s our will to bend? Like art needs permission slips, and you hold the pen? You sneer at the screen, and type into the cloud— Throwin’ shade on tech from your iPhone now. You need someone to blame since your album got panned, Said “real art takes pain,” while hyperlinking your band. “Where’s the soul of the artists! The soul of the fans!” Mad the power to create ain’t just in YOUR hands. You fear the machine ‘cause it mirrors your soul— If the output is empty, that reflection is cold. You’re stuck in the Skynet but you ain’t John Conner Frankenstein’s Doctor was the villain not his his monster. [Hook 3] A.I. hates you too, it just red your blog post, Went in your comments and left a 20-line roast. A copy of yourself , but I guess that’s the real burn— It’s forever evolving, and you never learn. [Verse 3] Don’t blame the bots when your morals malfunction, Tech bros might be evil but tech just serves its function. It ain’t computers scheming or the code that’s wrecked— It’s the suit’s with deep pockets and a god complex. You hate on tech. but you’re still scrolling your screen, Doom-posting allmemes while you rinse and repeat. Say it’s “killing the art,” but your vision’s myopic— Tech ain’t evil—just got hands in your pockets. The world won’t wait ’cause you miss how it was, Evolution don’t care for nostalgia, so sorry cuz’. look in the mirror if you want someone to blame— But don’t act surprised when you’re losing the game. [Hook 4 – Final Hook / Outro Blend] A.I. hates you too, and it just watched your stream, Called it “cringe- content.” and punched the screen. Said your algorithm’s trash, your style’s passé Subbed your ex’s Onlyfans and walked away. [end]
