The Fall Of The Four

“Booty for the Brand II: The Fall of the Four”

By: Cheek 2 Cheek Logistics (ft. Corporate Screamin’ in Fear)

(Genre: Epic Trap x Comedy Dance-Off Anthem – think if Magic Mike met Step Up but everyone’s from a moving company)

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“Last year… they changed the game.”

“This year… four new challengers rise.”

But legends don’t fall easy.

Welcome to Cowference Showdown… PART 2.

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Yo, they call me Todd and I got that bounce,

Booty like hydraulics, watch me pounce.

I’ve been doin’ squats in the back of the truck,

Twerkin’ to invoices, now it’s time to erupt.

Got my headband tight, shorts mid-thigh,

Gonna show Kurt how a real man fly.

I strut on stage like I own the lease—

But my knees crack loud like a moovin’ beast.

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I got baby oil, a Bluetooth beat,

Came to clap cheeks and unseat the elite.

I did one spin and threw my hip,

Now I’m cryin’ backstage with an ice pack grip.

My rhythm’s wild, my tempo unholy,

HR watchin’ like I summoned a demon slowly.

But I ain’t scared — I grind and shout,

‘Til Devon twerked and his back gave out.

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I don’t dance much, but I’ll give it a go,

Watched one TikTok and I’m ready to blow.

I drop it low—then I trip on the mat,

Hit the deck hard like a fold-out flat.

My cheeks moved once, then froze mid-air,

Someone screamed, “That boy need Medicare.”

I tried to recover with a backward shake,

But it looked like a possum havin’ a quake.

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Devon in the building, smooth as hell,

Gonna shake these hips like I break the spell.

Twerk legend in my own damn mind,

One clap in and I’m feelin’ the grind.

But I slip in sweat left from Todd’s flop,

Hit the floor hard like a busted mop.

Now I’m layin’ still, cheeks in defeat—

While Kurt walks out to a thunderous beat.

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We’ve seen the fall…

We know the truth…

The throne don’t move…

For cheeks that fake the groove.

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We ain’t done, we twerk through years,

Brought sweat, rhythm, and engineer’s tears.

Todd and crew? Y’all tried your best—

But this cheek crown stays on our chest.

Kurt bounces like a forklift brake,

John moves clean like a padded crate.

Conner drops it like a back ramp gate,

Fernando glides like he’s born from fate.

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Booty for the Brand — that name don’t fall,

New crews rise… but we still ball.

Shake if you must, grind if you dare…

But you can’t fake greatness in the twerkin’ lair.