[Intro] Hold up… Don’t waste this one. No regen until tomorrow. No reroll. No extend. This the last credit. [Verse 1] Opened Suno — saw the number look sick Single digit left and I got hit real quick Every bad prompt flashed like a tax I paid Every “almost perfect” felt like debt unpaid Can’t burn one testing if the hook too flat Can’t burn one checking if the snare too fat Can’t burn one changing one word in a line So now every syllable fighting for its life Cursor blinking like “You sure this the one?” Whole beat sounding different When the meter says one I ain’t making art now This survival rap Whole album disappeared Now I’m down to scraps [Pre-Chorus] Last credit Last credit Say a prayer then send it No preview No second thought Whole career compressed in one shot [Chorus] I’m making this rap On my last credits One generation left No aesthetics One more click One more spin If this one misses I’m done again This ain’t inspiration This is panic with rhythm I’m writing like the server Already forgot me existed Last credit Last credit Make it count Don’t regret it [Verse 2] Started deleting adjectives mid-verse Like “do I really need that word?” Removed three lines Saved one rhyme Now the whole thing somehow sound better Suddenly I’m a monk with prompts Minimalist with impossible wants No strings No brass No twelve-part choir No layered harmony cathedral fire Just give me kick Give me bass Give me one clean hook Don’t waste my place Funny thing though— Pressure got me locked in Whole month clicking random This one got intention [Bridge – spoken / filtered] Generate. Wait. Loading. Please don’t suck. Please don’t suck. Please— …oh. Wait. This kinda goes. [Verse 3] Funny how the number changed the way I write Fifty credits deep I throw ideas like dice Ten left and suddenly I’m sharpening knives Reading every line like somebody might die Now I’m muting whole sections before they exist Asking “does this clap really add to the mix?” Removed six words and somehow gained punch Turned abundance into a closed fist crunch Got that last-credit vision Tunnel-eye focus Every bad decision Suddenly in slow motion Should I chase the weird? Should I play it safe? Do I make the song Or make the song that makes? Cursor blinking like a bomb timer Hit generate and become a believer Progress circle spin like roulette wheel chrome Watching percentages like stock traders at home Then the beat came back Wrong… but alive Hook came in sideways Verse caught fire And I laughed like “THAT’S what I was saving?” Whole month throwing darts Last credits did the aiming [Final Chorus] Made this whole rap On my last credits One generation left No edits No reroll No safety net Just me and the fear And an internet debt Last credit Last credit Hit submit No hesitation If this one bangs Then I call it Optimization
