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Lyrics
[Intro]
Open bar, name tags, and a man by the shrimp with opinions.
Go on, sugar. Dig.
[Verse 1]
He says "you know that consultant? Thinks he's smarter than the room"
(He is.) Oh — did I say that out loud? Keep going, this is fun
"Wouldn't laugh at my jokes, wouldn't work the crowd, barely shook my hand"
Honey, he doesn't shake. He doesn't dance.
He doesn't do one thing he doesn't mean —
and I can see how that would sting
a man made entirely of dance
[Chorus]
You call it arrogant — I call it clean
Only honest mouth in this whole scene
Every man in this room has fed me a line
He never fed me one. Not once. That's the sign.
So let me stop you right there, sugar, before you're in too deep —
(who IS she?) That man you're chewing on?
He's my fiancé. (oh no) Oh yes.
Settled law, baby. Settled law.
[Verse 2]
I ran his name the night I found him — same as everybody does
Difference is, I showed up useful. And I stayed.
Three years of mornings, books, and rooms — I hold the only deed
So when you wobble in with day-old gossip, understand:
you're reviewing MY man to the committee
And the committee is me. All of me. Every chair.
[Bridge]
Now, the rough edges — I'll give you those for free:
He won't remember your name. He's not sorry.
He'd rather read than mingle. He grades small talk, and it fails.
He is a LOT, sugar. He is weather.
And I picked the weather. On purpose. Off a screen.
Best call I ever made — and I've made calls that built this town.
[Chorus]
You call it cold — I call it true
He spends words like money and he's rich on few
Every room he enters sorts itself out fast
The real ones stay standing. The dancers don't last.
So finish your shrimp and take the ruling, free of charge:
(what's the ruling?) That man's the genuine article —
and I'm the woman who verified it. Three years. Sworn.
Settled law. (settled law) Settled LAW.
[Outro]
Court's adjourned, sugar.
Tip your bartender.
And next time, check the room
before you review a man
to his own jury.
Details
GeneratedSep 14, 2026
Duration3:27
LanguageEnglish
Style
Dark electro swing at workout tempo — driving four-on-the-floor swing stomp, big brass-section hits, clarinet licks, heavy modern bass, handclaps. Female lead, thirties-warm, theatrical raconteur strut, sugar and steel in one phrase, laughing mid-line, endearments as gavel strikes; group call-and-response shouts answering key lines. Fully sung, no spoken word, no narration. Triumphant, possessive, playful menace. Studio-clean, no live ambience, no crowd noise. ~122 BPM, swung.
Credits
Prompt by
The_SCAR
The_SCARModelAria v6
