[Intro] (Sound of a lighter flicking, heavy breathing, the distant hum of a generator) Yeah... Look at this clown. Coming down Woodward in a rented Tesla, thinkin’ he’s local. You ain't from the 313, man. You’re a tourist with a data plan. Let’s go. [Verse 1] Yo, step in the Cass Corridor, lookin’ like a lost explorer With your Patagonia vest and your "disruptor" aura You’re a gentrifying cancer, a silicon necromancer Tryna "pivot" in a city where the lions don’t even answer You got your micro-dose of mushrooms and your cold brew flask But wouldn't last a second 'round the Seven Mile task I see your venture capital, your fraudulent stack You’re packin' a MacBook, I’m packin’ a Mac in a backpack Tryna "optimize" the block? Man, your logic is flawed You’re a glitch in the matrix, a basic-ass fraud You talk about the "cloud" like you’re actually high But you’re just a cloud-chaser with a digital lie See, the D don't need your apps or your "smart-grid" vision We need the grit, not your soft-ware "start-up" mission You’re "scaling" your business? I’m scalpin’ the rhythm Leave your algorithm bleeding in a dark-room schism. [Chorus] He’s a tech-bro geek, tryna leak in the D With a LinkedIn peak and a weak pedigree You ain't "disrupting" nothing but the local rent With your crypto-scams and your soul misspent Yeah, you’re "coding" the future? You’re coating the truth Another vulture in a vest, preying on the youth From the Valley to the Lodge, yeah, the data is cold You’re a silver-spoon puppet tryna play the bold. [Verse 2] Check it, your "AI" can’t mimic this authentic Detroit spit You’re a bit-rate misfit, a "user-interface" wit Tryna buy up the brick, tryna paint it all white Put a "Co-working space" where we used to ignite You got your Allbirds on, steppin’ over the cracks While I’m steppin’ over bodies with these lyrical snacks "Blockchain" this, "Web3" that—man, shut the hell up You’re a cup-cake, a pup-fake, a glitch in the cup I’m a 10-millimeter socket, you’re a Bluetooth glitch You’re a "beta-tester" snitch in a luxury pitch I’ll "firewall" your throat, "delete" your whole cache Leave your "NFT" portfolio lookin’ like trash You’re a "Founder"? Great. I’m the Ground-er of reality A sound-er technicality, a fatal-ity to your vanity Go back to Palo Alto with your soy-milk latte Before the 8 Mile wolves turn your "pivoting" to a karate. [Bridge] (Tempo accelerates, staccato delivery) Ctrl-Alt-Delete. User not found. System error. The D don't run on "Series A" funding, homie. It runs on gasoline and survival. Buffs on my eyes, you can’t see the arrival. [Verse 3] You’re a "Content Creator"? I’m a context cremator An object debater, a complex innovator Your whole aesthetic is a synthetic pathetic prosthetic Your genetic poetic is anesthetic, forget it I’ll "reboot" your head with a lead-pipe "update" Leave your "smart-home" lookin’ like a crime-scene state You’re "disrupting the market"? I’m disrupting your pulse With a multi-syllabic assault that’s occult You’re a "unicorn"? Nah, you’re a donkey in a horn In a city where the weathered and the rugged are born Keep your "metaverse" dreams, keep your "Oculus" view Because the reality of 7 Mile is coming for you. Connection lost. Ping: Infinite. You’re a "startup" that’s finished before you even begin it. [Outro] (Static noise, a server fan slowing down and dying) Yeah. Go back to the suburbs, man. Take your electric scooter with you. We don't need no "smart cities." We need smart people. And you... You're just a 404 error in a North Face jacket. *Fades out*
