## Title: **“Exhibit 5‑0”** ### Verse 1 You sound hurt, not certain, just searchin’ for dirt, Name in your mouth ‘cause your name don’t work. You the type to write novels in a comment box, But when they say “drop proof,” all we hear is talk. You studyin’ my page like a midterm test, Countin’ follows, countin’ posts, tryin’ to prove I’m less. Say you know my nine‑to‑five, say you know my fee, But the only work we seen is you clockin’ on me. You keep quotin’ all these cons like you work the floor, But you line staff, if that, I’m the one by the door. You recitin’ all my moves, cities, sets, where I go, **You surveillance, not a rival – that’s why 503 is 5‑0.** --- ### Hook You talk facts, but you never bring the proof outside, I bring tapes, you bring tantrums and wounded pride. You want court in a chat, I want cords in a crate, You want Ty to be your judge, I just want 808s. --- ### Verse 2 You said you got my job, got my life on file, But your “evidence” is gossip with a different style. You swear you know my bookings, say I’m fakin’ the scenes, But you never post a flyer, just conspiracy memes. I own what I did, all the trollin’ and smoke, Stand on it like a verse that I already wrote. You rewrite every story just to fit your role, You ain’t narratin’ the truth, you just losin’ control. You want sympathy angles, bringin’ trauma to chat, Weaponizin’ every wound just to try and hit back. I ain’t fightin’ over rumors, that’s a losin’ lane, I’d rather let the room laugh, then go and drop a flame. --- ### Short Outro Next time you say you got files, let the links all show, ‘Til then, you background static in a stereo. I’m a set, you a speech, that’s the way this go, DJ in the foreground, and 503 is 5‑0.
