The Softest Man Alive

Payton pulls up in that Barbie-ass ride

4Runner squattin’ like his balls ran and hid inside

Calls it a truck? Man, I call it a purse

Chrome rims and a diffuser like it came with a curse

Wears Crocs in sport mode like he’s ready for war

But the toughest thing he’s done is mop a Whole Foods floor

Acts hard online, but we all know the script

Can’t throw a punch, but he’s mastered the lip

He’s the kinda dude to cry after head

Text “u up?” to a chick, then leave it on read

Grew a mustache just to feel like a man

But it’s patchier than his 3rd grade tan

Payton Gill, you feminine bitch

You lift like a dancer with a mild wrist twitch

Your truck’s a mom car, your vibe’s all snitch

You teach kids P.E. and cry when they ditch

Soft like a peach, heart like a daffodil

You’re the mascot of soy, Payton Gill

You’ll coach JV like it’s D1 heat

Whistle in your mouth, but you can’t take the heat

You wear a visor backwards like you’re Florida State

But your highlight reel’s just you setting up cones late

Postin’ shirtless pics with a “grindset” quote

Took 60 selfies just to choose one to post

And you flex in the mirror, tryin’ hard to look tough

But you got thighs like a grandma who power-walks rough

You bench 135 and grunt like a beast

Then sip on almond milk and eat a tofu feast

Your idea of pain is a paper cut bleed

You cried when your ex liked a meme he ain’t seen

Payton Gill, you feminine bitch

You’re the kind of guy who gets lost in a Twitch

Stream full of makeup tips and girl drama rants

Wears compression shorts like a virgin in dance

You’re a coach in the books, but a clown in the field

Softer than mayo, Payton Gill

Look man, I ain’t sayin’ you’re useless

But if I saw you in a fight, I’d bet on the cheerleaders

You wear lotion with sparkles and shave your pits

Your Spotify Wrapped was Billie Eilish and Shrek 2 hits

You play tough guy, but it’s all pretend

You bring kale chips to the function, no friends

You walk in with cologne strong as regret

With arms like uncooked spaghetti wet

Payton Gill, you feminine bitch

If you were any more fragile, you’d be glass with a glitch

Coachin’ kids on dodgeball like it’s Olympic shit

Meanwhile your playlist’s just breakup skits

You’re the reason God made middle seats still

You soft-ass, oat-milk-sippin’ Payton Gill