[Verse 1] Rapid: Radio rotation, cloned conversation, No taste, just playlist-based validation, Station dictates your daily fixation, You call it a favourite, I call it persuasion. Popular, proper? You're probably programmed, Follow the format, applaud when the song lands, Corporate chorus gets caught in your thought-bank, Four chords, soft voice, sponsored by broadband. Quick with the click when the crowd says "classic," Never heard past it, still act emphatic, Algorithm fed you the average package, Wrapped it in glitter, you swallowed the plastic. Tongue twist: Pick what they picked 'cause the pick got picked, Then you pick that pick when the playlist flips, Click what they click 'cause the clicker's clicked, Six slick singles and you swear they're sick. Critically minimal, mimic the typical, Digital disciples repeating the ritual, Predictable syllables, clinically visible, Individual? Barely distinguishable. You don't choose tunes, tunes choose you, Chart says "one," then you say "me too," Next week new face, new fake breakthrough, Old one's gone and your "favourite" is too. [Hook] Same old sound and you follow that **crowd**, Say it's your taste 'cause they play it out **loud**, Borrowed opinion, you call it your **own**, Switch when the charts tell the flock where to **go**. [Verse 2 - Double-Time] Mind on rental, trend-dependent, Ten-second snippet, then instant sentence, "Best song ever!" with zero remembrance, Two months later it's lost attendance. Spin what spins when the spin gets spun, Run with the run 'cause everyone runs, One gets crowned so you crown that one, Then claim that choice was independently done. Brittle little rhythm with a middleman minimum, Delivering identical digital stimulants, Millions mimicking millions of listeners, Filtering difference till difference is finished. Tongue twist: Trend-set sheep step, swept by the next trend, Best gets blessed when the press says "best" then, Press says next, so the best gets left, Next best enters and you flex that next. Rapid: Packaged and polished and properly marketed, Targeted, charted and carefully carpeted, Calculated catchy, mechanically mastered, Background music for a personality plaster. No digging in crates, no hunting for strange, No risky selection outside of your range, You wait for permission before taste can change, Then wear mass approval like proof you've got brains. I'm not saying obscure automatically wins, I'm saying decide what you actually think, If everybody jumped when the radio sings, Would you ask how high before questioning it? [Hook - AABB] Same old sound and you follow that **crowd**, Say it's your taste 'cause they play it out **loud**, Borrowed opinion, you call it your **own**, Switch when the charts tell the flock where to **go**. [Verse 3] Rapid: Playlist pedestrian, preference gelatin, Anything trending, you're readily letting in, Celebrity pedigree settles the evidence, Tell you it's excellent, suddenly heaven-sent. Repetition recognition mistaken for quality, Familiarity masquerading as honesty, Popularity somehow becomes your philosophy, "Millions have streamed it!" That's not an apology. Tongue twist - Accelerating: Follow the follower following followers, Borrow the borrower borrowing confidence, Copy the copier copying compliments, Popular popularity powering prominence. Rapid: Mass manufacture your musical attitude, Algorithm calculates suitable gratitude, Feed you a chorus, repeat it ad nauseam, Soon you're defending it harder than Parliament. Same four phrases, same safe arrangement, Same vague heartbreak in beige entertainment, Then when somebody plays something dangerous, "Bit weird, innit?" Yeah. That's the statement. I'd rather hear failure with character in it, Than flawless wallpaper engineered by committee, I'd rather pick rubbish because *I* really picked it, Than worship whatever got twelve million TikToks. So keep your countdown. Keep your consensus. Keep your sponsored sentimental pretence. Taste ain't a vote and art ain't census. If nobody told you it's good... Would you still defend it? [Final Hook] Same old sound and you follow that **crowd**, Say it's your taste 'cause they play it out **loud**, Borrowed opinion, you call it your **own**, Switch when the charts tell the flock where to **go**. Same safe song gets mechanically **praised**, Same blank stare when the playlist gets **changed**, Find your own sound, let your own taste **show**, Or keep being told what you're meant to **know**. [Outro - Spoken] "This one's number one." Cool. Do *you* like it? [END]
