27 Rings, Say Less

[Intro]
Yankees on top
Twenty-seven rings, say less (yeah)
Whole city in the cap
Whole world feel the flex (uh)
[Verse 1]
Pinstripes on my body, that’s a uniform
Legends in the rafters, that’s a thunderstorm
From the Bronx out to the globe, that’s a platform
Every era, every decade, we the benchmark
Cold nights, fall air, see the breath rise
October got a different kind of red eyes
All that pressure turn a rookie to a franchise
Every swing sound louder on the landline
[Chorus]
Yankees on top, twenty-seven rings, nobody like us (like us)
Whole league talking, but they never gonna line up beside us (nah)
Run it back, run it back, all season that’s bias
Pinstripes, big stage, bright glare, can’t blind us
Yankees on top, twenty-seven rings, nobody like us
[Verse 2]
Old heads talkin’ Ruth in the bar chair
Young kids streaming clips like it’s warfare
Different names, same script, they aware
Step in our house, feel the whole place stare
Chain swing heavy like a World Series
We don’t chase clout, we chase histories
Every rival got a phase, that’s a mini-series
We the long run, deep cut, documentaries
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
Who else stack banners like a bookshelf? (who?)
Who else got eras you can’t out-sell? (you can’t)
Talk stats, talk caps, talk payroll
Still can’t buy that soul in the ballpark rows
From the Roll Call roar to the last out
Every chant from the crowd like a blackout
If you doubt, pull up, see the layout
Every line on that field say stay proud
[Chorus]

rap, Glitched-out trap/hip-hop banger with swung drums and warped baseball stadium chants. Chopped crowd noise and synthetic organ stabs, deep sub, and stuttering glitch fills between lines. Hook hits hard with stacked gang vocals; verses stay tight and cocky with spacious ad-libs and quick doubles. Male vocals, aggressive but playful, riding a half-time bounce that keeps the head nodding., glitch, hip hop, glitch hop