[Intro] Sat through it. Bit the mic down. Done being polite. [Verse 1] Walk in quiet, room stinks like a rerun Same five fights, new hat, hunting a name to stain No claim, go for the person, that's the liturgy Wannabe expert, leftover wrapped like the sky is falling Political chapel, panic for tithe. You baptize a room, don't brief it Host refresh the count like God spoke in the number Book last night's blood, call it keeping them hungry Guilty by who they sat by. Sub-post in the dark, hide in "just asking" I crushed the urge to speak. Logged you. Harvest station. [Hook] Same topic, new emergency Same expert, same surgery Don't debate it, stain the name That's the show, that's the game You didn't join a conversation You walked into a harvest station Clap the panic, staff the pile Leave the room, keep the file [Verse 2] Harvest host, you don't have a show, you have a tank Tonight's guest, tomorrow's target, you eat your roster Expert raise the pitch till a footnote's a war Need collapse to sound smart. That's a crutch Mob clock in proud. Pile-on ain't courage, it's chorus Naive populace, you ain't informed, mule for a frame Rats, every chat, every side. Smile here, smear there Group chat handshake. Tribal stamp on a coward's back Play all sides so you never stand one Problem with me? Say it. Don't farm it in a circle BJJ black-belt brothers nationwide like a fraternity Near your city, not a hit, a mat. Friendly spar You chose little knives. I chose a clock and a belt Mask slipped. You're the tribe's problem now, they can’t see you Useful in the dark. In the light you're a cost Keep the loop, bill come due. Room only holds blood Well runs dry. You burned the scene for a count [Hook] Same topic, new emergency Same expert, same surgery Don't debate it, stain the name That's the show, that's the game You didn't join a conversation You walked into a harvest station Clap the panic, staff the pile Leave the room, keep the file [Verse 3] Ain't dropped a song in a minute Then a man ran a Space like making was the fight SkiBumDad, Sonic Boom, one year, didn't flinch Didn't farm a tornado. Booked a track. Booked a builder That's what pulled The Assassin back Sick of clap-labor? Change buildings. Demand the claim Hope's a host who went twelve months clean With a topic that don't need a body on the screen [Outro] They call me The Assassin. Didn't give you my voice. Logged the room. Real problem fits on a mat. Group chat is a hobby. Always watching. Come back when the booker thinks quiet means he won. Came back for Sonic Boom. One year. That's the light. I'll come back when you least expect it. Keep talking. Still taking notes.
