[Intro - spoken, low-key] My notifications don't stop anymore. It's protest shots, mugshots, missing uncles, And every time, somewhere in the background, Golden Idol smiling like it's all good for ratings. (Fuck you... chump) (Fuck you) [Chorus] Newsfeed full of sirens, same clip, new caption, Golden Idol on mute - point's always moot while the crowd reacts in fractions - fractured. Scroll, scroll - same bruise, new case, same squad in the same dark space. If this place is "top of the map," Why the country feel like they trapped? I'm in the mod view, blue light on my skin, hit "approve" on a track 'bout a cousin gone thin. Thin air, thin skin - we don't get to win. Next post - border raid caught on a ring cam, kid in pajamas, hand on a battering ram. Golden Idol on the desk, framed in every sense, framed in the headlines, we framed for the offense. Talking tough through the tint - we see through the tense. He says "numbers down," but we ARE the numbers now, counted out, count on us to get counted out somehow. I see voice notes shaking, breath all clipped, (Bro, they took my aunt, no warrant, just dipped) He's got agents in armor for a TV clips, no care for us though, just grocery lot clip. Timeline split: half "like," half "cope," half numb, half dissed by a dope - I'm doped out. I'm sitting on "approve," finger hovering the mic, trying not to leak all this rage when I strike. [Chorus] Newsfeed full of sirens, same clip, new caption, Golden Idol on mute - point's always moot while the crowd reacts in fractions - fractured. Scroll, scroll - same bruise, new case, same squad in the same dark space. If this place is "top of the map," Why the country feel like they trapped? Golden Idol loves that overhead shot, overhead's on us while the kai-ron hot. Choppers on loop - choppers like teeth, all grin, calls these raids "tough but fair" - pimp that win. But the body count never shows up there. I got bars in drafts I don't post yet, both kinds - his bars hold bodies, mine free the threat. Names and dates I ain't cleared on the net, block ain't cleared, truth ain't cleared - not yet. Every line feels like tagging the block, tagged and tracked, watching round the clock. Group chat poppin', three tracks per hour, every beat heavy with words of power Some kid raps (they took my pops on sight) voice cracks mid-hook, couldn't get it right. Ain't tryna play safe, I'm just angry they play us, I play art - wound's my heart. Golden Idol's fans think this is all a play, 'til their cousin's in a van and there's nothing to say. [Chorus] Newsfeed full of sirens, same clip, new caption, Golden Idol on mute - point's always moot while the crowd reacts in fractions - fractured. Scroll, scroll - same bruise, new case, same squad in the same dark space. If this place is "top of the map," Why the country feel like they trapped? Red cap, all cap, zero capacity, call themselves based - peak audacity. (Do your research) - a YouTube montage? Three-hour screamer in a flag-draped garage. They call us sheep but they flock to the pen, same script, same slogan, hit repeat again. Dunning-Kruger poster boys, loud and wrong, cracked the code 'cause they heard it in a song. Think they right 'cause they right of the aisle, Golden Idol plays 'em - judge, jury, trial. Blue collar, red hat, check never clears, vote against their paycheck every four years. Lick the boot, say thanks, salute the brand, constitution's just a meme they don't understand. They say "wake up" but they sleepwalk in line, follow the algorithm, call it divine. "Make America Hateful Once More" - read the sign, "great" and "hate" one letter off the line. Left behind but they blame the left, rob themselves blind, call it theft. Facts don't care? Nah, you don't care for facts, feelings over figures, watch the logic crack. Think you're lions but you move like the sheep, Golden Idol counts the flock - goes to sleep. [Bridge - fast pocket] Mod page, red dot - scope or note? - new post, photo of a wallet found on the coast. Caption: (has anyone seen my brother?) Comments full of tags from his mother. Golden Idol, idle hands, gold watch on his wrist, time's up for us, but he don't check the list. Smiling on a late-night set, jokes about "numbers," canned laugh track fed. We the ones crying, he ain't shed shit yet. Two screens, one room, same night, one sells fear, one begs for a fight. [Final Chorus] Newsfeed full of sirens, same clip, new caption, Golden Idol on mute - point's always moot while the crowd reacts in fractions - fractured. Scroll, scroll - same bruise, new case, same squad in the same dark space. If this place is "top of the map," Why the country feel like they trapped? So I hit that beat, hit "post," straight facts, put Golden Idol on blast, watch him crack. Blast through the glass of that studio, jack he frames the story, I'm burning his hat If the algorithm buries this track, fine I've seen enough to etch his name in every line.
