Got What It Takes?

Lyrics

one prompt
two prompts
three
then four

one prompt
two prompts
three
then four
everyone can sprint
but fuck, they cant run

[Gunshots]

too many trips
so many traps
at this point, could
have learnt the fuckin craft
cos

anybody can sprint on a beat now, so prepare for a beat down
peak crowd, big mouth, cheap style, get the weak praised
speed loud, each round spit fast till the meaning get squeezed out
beats bounce, crowd wild, nobody stop to ask what hes speaks bout

like... what the fuck is he saying

these days, whole lanes get built on a brief phrase
three taps, screen flash, gemini handin out clean takes
meanin gets replaced by a sheen that the machine made
cheap grace, deepfake pain with a preset heartbreak
me nah, I still came with the tab and the S pen out
rewrites, dead nights, bad drafts till my head break with doubt
real weight, real strain, real blood when the text land
you cant type in a prompt and then claim that your chest bled

man...
fill up the grid with a blur just to get praised for velocity
packin a pattern with so many syllables nobody checks
if the sentence before it got blood or quality
or if its just a monstrosity chat GPT atrocity
its peeking my curiosity, Im not tryna cos no animosity
but theres got to be someone on here with the capacity
an electric biology, or heck maybe the trick got mistaken for substance, but taylor trained the crowd to applaud what wasnt hard to repeat, not what was custom
so I didnt come here to show I can run with the drum
I came here to write music an bury a truth in a pocket

so yeah, Im calling anybody on this platform out
if they think that they can
tag me, handwritten lyrics only
lets really see who got hands
no ghost in the prompt
no bot in the backroom
no polish pass from a chat window
thats it
bring sixteen that can stand on their own feet
without a machine cucked in the back seat

but.....

anyone can rap fast
dont even gotta make sense no more
just tiddy tat, blididdy blat
little bitty clickity clack for the idiot app
but this motherfucker came strapped with a backpack
packed with a craft that was wax sealed shut, still wrapped
like a black lit tract from a last witch act
that they stashed in the ash with the Salem batch
that same old flame they was scared might catch
same panic pattern when the page get scratched
with a phrase so strange that it shake that mask
off a famed mass chamber where they spray that gas

dont worry, Ill hold while you flipmode this track back to try get ahold and catch that ash

everybody wanna rat a tat tat on a track like that
all chitter chat, knickknack, pitty pat rap
with a riddle that rhymed but it didnt mean jack
you cant fake that crap
cant stage that sting
cant make that hit with a taped back trick
and a great big dick when the bassline kicks
if it aint got ache in the grain of the page, its a blank ass script

you wanted “how did he do that”
I want “how the fuck did he write that shit”
I want the kind of line that dont end when it ends
the kind that come back in the quiet and finish the crap
the kind that take one cheap little memory
turn it to a corridor, then lock somebody in with me
givem a night that slits in the ribs like a name you breath
the kind that wait till the lights go out an stop the beat beating in their chest an leave

so yeah, Im calling anybody on this platform out
if they think that they can
tag me, handwritten lyrics only
lets really see who got hands
no ghost in the prompt
no bot in the backroom
no polish pass from a chat window
thats it
bring sixteen that can stand on their own feet
without a machine cucked in the back seat

again...

anybody can make music now
everybody got access to Suno and chat GPT
whole feed full of rented voices, prompt built poses
synthetic soul with a backbeat beatin underneath
I can hear when the prompt did the heavy lift
see when the script got stamped
an half these lyrics got bot fingerprints
and 12 neat little em dashes in em like my band
thats why Im lookin at half of these “writers”
like who the fuck are you foolin exactly

you didnt even catch that eminem line did you

you typed a wish in a box and let the machine do the heavy patchin
that aint craft, thats captions
that aint pain, thats patterns
that aint depth, thats data dressed up
in a voice that learned how to mimic your damage
the mud dont hand back four clean options
when the line dont land how you wanted it

so yeah, Im calling anybody on this platform out
if they think that they can
tag me, handwritten lyrics only
lets really see who got hands

cos anybody can make music now
thats easy
the gate fell off
the tools got cheap
the trick got sleek
the whole world learned how to package a feeling
an if your feeling me, come rock this beat


do you accept





© 2026 Hotwife of Pi. All rights reserved. All lyrics are original works written and published under the name Hotwife of Pi and are protected by applicable copyright law. No part of these lyrics may be copied, reproduced, republished, distributed, adapted, performed, recorded, transmitted, used for artificial intelligence or machine-learning training, or otherwise exploited, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from the copyright holder, except where permitted by law.