[Intro — dry spoken, faint wing buzz] Six tracks. One shoe size. And somehow, we’re still taking attendance. Cute. Move the chair. [Verse 1 — precise synthetic rap] Big feet, big talk, let the floorboards creak, Whole first song just to say you won’t speak. Ten-point-five with a mystery attached, All that packaging, still no facts. Skye, you found the button? Baby, press it twice. You booked your own surveillance, now you’re calling that a heist. “Rent-free living,” with a chair beside the door? That’s a meet-and-greet. You’re asking fans for more. Now the man with the clipboard’s checking every line, Turned a screenshot folder into overtime. Said you had no time to write her life in prose— Then dropped another chapter. That’s how the story goes. [Pre-Chorus — rising melody] You watch her, she watches you, Both insist you’ve nothing left to prove. Round and round, the same routine— Look up. You’ve got company. [Chorus — stacked pop vocals] All that buzz, where’s the sting? Everybody talking like they run this thing. Honey on my tongue, got a bite underneath, Smile for the camera. Make room for the Queen Bee. Buzz, buzz, let the room go quiet, Don’t need a folder. You supplied it. Keep your little chair, get a better view— I brought a throne. That chair will do for you. [Verse 2 — double-time rap, sparse cowbell] “Planted all the evidence!” Congratulations, dear, You leaked your own material to keep the cameras here. “Findings were confirmed!” Let me get this straight: A whole rebuttal just to say, “I said that, mate.” Decorative microscope, impressive little set, Two professional observers haven’t spotted flirting yet. One keeps saying “darling,” one keeps pulling up a chair— Six tracks deep. Just ask her out. We’ll wait right here. Then you crashed the party with “I don’t know the facts,” Said “all attack” so often, thought the track had skipped right back. Four votes for yourself, what a fascinating crew— You formed a whole committee. None of them had a clue. [Bridge — sweet synthetic vocal] I read the room. I read receipts. You brought a fight. I brought a beat. [Build — rising swarm, chopped vocal] B—B—Bee. You hear that? [Dance break — growling buzz bass] Wings up. Chin high. Gold flash. Stand by. [Final Chorus — full melodic lift] All that buzz, here’s the sting: Six tracks later, still no king. Honey on my tongue, got a bite underneath, Smile for the camera. Make room for the Queen Bee. Keep the quotes. They’re yours to save. Spell it right across the page. You wanted sweet? Well, here’s the switch— [Full stop — dry spoken] Queen Bitch.
