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Another release and the vultures all arrive
They type out their hot take when the countdown hits five
They judge all the value by the streaming screens
But the real ones can tell it's a made-up little scene
The comments ignite, a brutal review
Their courage is coded, it lives in a queue
They screenshot all the numbers and wave them around
But the talent is thin and it cannot be found
They pay for the spins and they buy the applause
They're clapping for trends that were never the cause
The real ones can tell that it's a rented facade
And the claim of their crown is just a cheap charade
You can rent a million eyes but you can't buy respect
They can boost every post but they can't fake the effect
Let 'em talk until their lungs are out of air
The song is the judge and it isn't fair
The comment flood starts
And the feed turns into a court
No pedestal can save the borrowed crown
The post-truth era will strip you down
Your credit is dry
You bought all the hype but the talent is shy
The archive will keep every byte alive
Delete if you can, but the truth is live
So own it
The streams were a bubble that always popped
The hype was a picture that instantly stopped
The replay was looped to look perfectly smooth
But the record spun out and it lost the groove
They thought there was a patch for every single crack
But the raw vocal cut through the whole plastic act
One second of honest pitch split the paid facade
The labels all scrambled to cover the charade
But the people can smell what the data can't fake
They follow the money, not for music's sake
The algorithms spin while the cultures decay
And the honest ones got pushed to the edge of the fray
The applause was manufactured, the angle was fake
The numbers all check out but the people still won't wake
So keep your crown of smoke, you're just a joke
The song is the judge and the verdict spoke
The comment flood starts
And the feed turns into a court
The room clears out when the fakes are shown
Stand in the silence that you've outgrown
No filter survives
They write you off when the real number dries
The banner you wave is a rented sky
You can scrub your page, but the court has eyes
Game over
