Prompt / Lyrics
[Intro] Shut your mouth Use your fists Bite down On your list What you hate What you fear Spit blood Grin ear to ear (yeah) [Verse 1] Basement breathing like a dragon Concrete sweats, pipes clacking Fluorescent flicker on knuckles cracking Name on my tongue, keep chanting Tyler in my iris, iris dialing Fight flyer stapled to my psyche, wilding Office boy folded in a parking lot fantasy Stapler in my hand, but I crave real casualties Clock ticks, coffee stains on my tie Inbox full, but my insides dry Cubicle coffin, humming fake light Boss barking numbers, I’m starving for a fight Every memo is a muzzle to my instincts Every handshake feels like handcuffs on my wrists Therapy chairs and breathing techniques But rage in my ribs wanna breathe gasoline Friday night: church of the outcasts Meet in the back where the light don’t ask All the suits shed skin in the stairwell March down slow like we’re walking into hell Names disappear, first rule stitched in the walls Second rule echo when the last tooth falls Every bruise is a prayer, every cut is a creed Every broken nose is the gospel we bleed [Chorus] This is fight club, teeth on the floor Jaw wired shut but I’m begging for more Taste of rust, heartbeat like a drum Bite down hard, feel the numbness come This is fight club, bruise-colored crown Rise when I fall, laugh when I drown Rip out fear, let the chaos call We break to feel anything at all (hey) [Verse 2] Got a split-face smile in the mirror One half clearer, one half nearer Office lanyard swinging on the bedpost Burned it once, but the ghost still smokes Soap in the sink, lye on the skin Chemical kiss while he carves me a grin Hold my hand in the pain, watch the pattern bloom World map burned in the backroom fumes We build bombs out of boredom and credit cards Catalog cuts, past-due scars Steel wool hearts scratching sparks in the dark Gas can gospel in a grocery cart Shopping list: Lipstick, cereal, chaos Cornflower-blue tie for the layoffs Smirk in the bleachers at the stadium ads We sell them their cages and call ’em pads The boss talking raises like rations I want detonation, not patience He sees the bruise like a question mark I answer with a smile, little bite of the shark Threaten to beat myself just to get a raise “Never hit me again” in his office haze Copy machine watching with bright green eyes As I walk out dripping, baptized in lies [Pre-Chorus] I’m awake now, veins like live wires Every calm face looks tired They scroll, we scheme They buy, we dream They sleep while we light fires (yeah) [Chorus] This is fight club, teeth on the floor Jaw wired shut but I’m begging for more Taste of rust, heartbeat like a drum Bite down hard, feel the numbness come This is fight club, bruise-colored crown Rise when I fall, laugh when I drown Rip out fear, let the chaos call We break to feel anything at all [Verse 3] Basement filled with the rejects of daylight Night shift saints in the flicker of a brake light Bartender counting down bets in his head While the rest of us meet to pretend we’re not dead Rules like ribs, you can feel ’em when they crack First swing hits and there’s no going back Every face becomes a question How much pain to earn connection? Skin splits slow, then the world makes sense Blood talks louder than your conference Silence in the circle ’til the fist hits skin Sudden choir of grunts, now the sermon begins Adrenaline anthem in the back of my throat Swear my own name like a murder note I’m not a slave if I carve my cost I own this body when it’s bruis
Tags
rap, Explosive industrial trap-rap, male vocals, ultra-aggressive energy. Distorted 808s and metallic percussion slam under a snarling double-time flow, with eerie choir pads and siren-like synth stabs. Verses build from clipped, tense delivery into manic, shouted cadences; hooks hit like gang chants with stacked vocals and crowd shouts. Occasional glitchy dropouts and reversed impacts create whiplash transitions so every punchline feels like a physical hit.
Duration
3:43
Instrumental
No
Created
4/18/2026