Ayy, I came up on key changes, big arrangements, You came up on TikTok dances, that’s amazing, But tell me this—where the melodies at? Y’all mumble, I compose, that’s a felony fact, I had platinum plaques, real wax, no streams, Your song blew up, but next week? It’s a meme, C’mon son, I been stackin’ these rhymes, Back when Michael McDonald couldn’t keep track of the time. Ooh, y’all flex with your iced-out chains, But I was yacht club stuntin’ with a captain’s cane, We had basslines smooth, no 808s, Just a Wurlitzer, Fender, and a band that’s great. We don’t rush, we take it slow, Let the groove ride, let the horns blow, Y’all pop bottles, we just coast, Yacht rock livin’, this the life I chose. Listen, I don’t hate, I just analyze, Y’all got one hook, I got bridges that’ll change your life, You write loops, I write movements, Your beat got one note, where’s the improvement? See, I had Quincy on the line, droppin’ wisdom, You got AI spittin’ bars in your system, Said you got hits? That’s cute, I ain’t mad, My demo tapes still sound better than your whole notepad. Man, what y’all listenin’ to these days? This a “hit”? Sounds like my car broke down on the freeway. Y’all just rap “yeah, yeah” over a loop, When we wrote, we had strings, full bands in the booth. We had real singers, y’all use plugins, Songs had key changes, y’all don’t know nothin’, Can’t tell a chorus from a verse, that’s a shame, But somehow, all these songs sound the same. Ain’t no stoppin’ this vibe, Guitar solo playin’ while we sip and we ride, Sound so clean, like the Doobies in prime, Yacht rock legend, got that soft-rock pride. Man, I don’t even need a chain, just give me a captain’s hat, a linen suit, and a Fender Rhodes. You can have the fast life—I got models on deck, bikinis on the boat. Try not to get too jealous. Ooooh, jealous! 🔥🔥🔥 Boom.
