[Verse 1: Breakneck chopper male MC, rapid chopper bars, hard knocking kick, snapping snare] Every night he's in my comments saying none of it's real Saying music needs a struggle and a heart you can feel Saying real ones pay their dues on a stage in a bar Then he plugs in Friday night with a secondhand guitar Eleven years in a band called the Mile Marker Nine Every single song they play is somebody else's line Got a seventies medley, got a slow dance for all And the same nine songs from the spring to the fall He's a jukebox with a beard and an attitude, man Calling me the copy while he copies the band Every chorus that he sings, somebody sang it before And he still gets on the mic like he invented the floor [Hook: Breakneck chopper male MC, hard chant, crowd shouts] Eleven years on a Friday singing somebody's song Now you up there singing mine and the whole bar sing along Called it fake all week, then you learned it in the lot Cover band covering me, that's the only hit you got [Verse 2: Breakneck chopper male MC, faster chopper bursts, hard knocking kick] So it's Friday at the Tap Room and it's quarter to one And the crowd has had enough of the same nine done Somebody in the back starts yelling out my song Then the whole room's yelling it, it don't take long He's like nah, we don't play that, that ain't real, that's a phase Then the owner leans across with his hand on the stage Says you play it right now or you're done in my bar So he's out in the lot learning chords in his car Pulling up my song on his phone, turning red Learning every single word of the thing he said was dead [Hook: Breakneck chopper male MC, hard chant, crowd shouts] Eleven years on a Friday singing somebody's song Now you up there singing mine and the whole bar sing along Called it fake all week, then you learned it in the lot Cover band covering me, that's the only hit you got [Verse 3: Breakneck chopper male MC, 808 on every rhyme, chopper bars at full speed] Back inside he steps up with a brand-new song Drummer clicks it off and he comes in wrong Then he finds it on the hook and the whole place roars Louder than it ever got for any song of yours Eleven years of Fridays, not a night like this And it's mine, it's my record, it's the one you dissed Tip jar full, owner grinning, saying see you next week Long as that new one closes, and he can't even speak [Bridge: Breakneck chopper male MC, chopper chant over pounding kick] So keep typing that it's thin, keep typing that it's cheap Every Friday you gon' play it, that's a promise you keep Put it last on the list where the loud ones go 'Cause the only thing that's real in your set is mine, and you know [Final Hook: Breakneck chopper male MC, full chant, crowd shouts] Eleven years on a Friday singing somebody's song Now you up there singing mine and the whole bar sing along Called it fake all week, then you learned it in the lot Cover band covering me, that's the only hit you got [End]
