WebMD Got Me Trippin

[Verse 1]
Woke up, throat scratch
Tiny little cough, that’s that
Typed it in the search bar fast
Now it says I got three hours max
Sweaty on the couch, I’m doomed
Scrolling through the list, I’m zoomed
Every single page, new tomb
Why my phone feel like a waiting room?
Mom calls, “You fine, just rest”
I’m like, “Ma, this site say it’s my final test”
Heartbeat racing, chest all tight
Or is that the fifth coffee I had last night?
[Chorus]
WebMD got me trippin (trippin)
Got me planning out my will in the kitchen (yeah)
Every little sneeze, new condition
Every little itch, new edition
Got the doctor on speed dial ringin (ring ring)
On hold, violin in my ceiling (skrrt)
He pick up like, “What you feelin’?”
I say, “Doc, I googled it… this the ending.”
[Verse 2]
Scrolling like a slot machine, bad news
Headache? Could be this, could be that too
Tiny red dot on my hand last Tuesday
Now the search say I’m a medical Blu-ray
Group chat muted, I’m “busy”
Deep in a forum, makin’ myself dizzy
“Rare in adults,” that’s me, I insist
I’m convinced I’m the rarest on the list
Call my doc back, third time today
He like, “You again?” I’m like, “Yeah, hey”
“I got screenshots, links, a thread,
If you got a second, I might be dead.”
[Chorus]
WebMD got me trippin (trippin)
Got me whispering my goodbyes in the kitchen (ayy)
Every little sneeze, new condition
Every little itch, new edition
Got the doctor on speed dial ringin (ring ring)
On hold, violin in my ceiling (woo)
He sighs like, “Bro, what you reading?”
I say, “Doc, the internet… it’s revealing.”
[Bridge]
[Beat drops to bass and soft violin]
He say, “Come in, let’s check you out”
I pull up like a walking doubt
List in my hand, twenty-seven fears
He look in my nose, then he wipes my tears
“Take a breath, man, look at me,
All that drama from your little sneeze
You’re not cursed, you ain’t done
It’s spring outside, that’s all it was”
[Chorus]
WebMD had me trippin (trippin)
Turned a runny nose to a life decision (wow)
Every little sneeze, new condition
Every little itch, new edition
Doc just laughs while I’m sittin
He writes one word, starts grinnin (uh-huh)
Hands me the paper like it’s deep wisdom:
“Allergies, bro. Log off the algorithm.”

rap, Playful trap bounce with crisp drums and subby low-end, male vocals in a talk-rappy delivery. Pizzicato and legato violins trading call-and-response with the vocal; hook widens with stacked ad-libs and a simple sing-song top line. Beat starts sparse and gets busier with each verse, then drops back for a deadpan final punchline., male vocals, violin