You wore the flag. You preached the creed. You spoke of freedom. You fed on greed. You shook our hands. You looked us in the eye. Called us your brothers— Then sold us every lie. HEY! HEY! WHO DO YOU SERVE? WHO DO YOU SERVE? You built your throne On the backs of the faithful. Now every word Sounds bought and paid for. WOLVES! IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING! WOLVES! WE SEE YOU NOW! You preached self-sovereignty, Then chased the sponsor check. One foot in Bitcoin, your neck on Wall Street’s leash. Conference stages, VIP smiles. Trading conviction For applause by the mile. Stablecoin salesman. Derivative king. Every new grift Wrapped in orange packaging. “Trust us.” “Be patient.” “Don’t make a scene.” While you let the Trojans Behind the fucking walls. NO! WE WON’T SHUT UP! NO! WE WON’T BACK DOWN! NO! YOUR MASK IS OFF! NO! YOUR TIME IS NOW! You called us toxic. You called us fools. Because we questioned Who was changing the rules. New client? “Too dangerous.” New filters? “Too extreme.” UASF deployments? “They won’t succeed.” Every honest question Buried under shame. Every warning mocked To protect your name. You don’t defend the network. You defend your seat. You’d rather sell tomorrow Than miss another meet. I remember why I came here… Not for conferences. Not for handshakes. Not for branded stages Or corporate names. I came because freedom Couldn’t ask permission. Because money without masters Was more than a mission. You forgot. We didn’t. You smile for the cameras. You kneel for the banks. You toast with the sponsors While draining the ranks. Cypherpunk words, Corporate soul. Every compromise Taking its toll. You fear losing access. We fear losing truth. That’s the line Between me and you. WHO DO YOU SERVE? WHO DO YOU SERVE? THE PEOPLE? OR THE PAYCHECK? WHO DO YOU SERVE? WHO DO YOU SERVE? THE NETWORK? OR THE BRAND? Your legacy Is rented applause. Ours is built Without your laws. When the banners fade, When the money’s gone, The code survives. And so do we. WOLVES! IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING! WOLVES! YOUR TEETH ARE SHOWING! NO IDOLS! NO MASTERS! NO FIAT! NO SELL-OUTS! You can own the spotlight. We’ll own the future.
