Look—
I gotta slow this shit down,
‘cause clearly the motor runnin’
but ain’t nobody behind the wheel, bitch.
You panickin’, scrambling, sweat in your eyes,
Whole room on fire and you don’t know why.
No plan, no spine, just noise and excuses,
Loudmouth chaos with zero solutions.
You waddlin’ in circles beggin’ folks to stay late,
Actin’ shocked the ship sank when you drilled the hull’s fate.
Coverage gone, now you fake-nice and sweet,
Funny how pressure make cowards start beggin’ for feet.
Let me dumb it down—nah, fuck it, I’ll spell it,
‘Cause comprehension clearly ain’t one of your talents.
Position don’t equal respect or command,
You just loud in a chair with a clipboard in hand.
You don’t lead, you stall, you deflect and you hide,
Brain on idle, mouth stuck on “divide.”
Every crisis expose what we already knew:
You ain’t built for the role, shit was never in you.
You got the title but no fuckin’ grip,
Just dead weight hips on a sinking ship.
Talk big when it’s calm, fold quick when it’s real,
Same bitch every storm — panic, lie, and appeal.
I hear you talkin’ like you holdin’ it down,
But every fire drill you the first one to drown.
You confuse noise with power, fear with respect,
But pressure don’t lie — it just shows the defects.
See, real leaders move quiet, calculated, precise,
You just flail and scream while you rollin’ the dice.
Whole operation runnin’ despite your ass,
Not because — that’s the truth that’ll forever last.
Motor hummin’, lights on, engine hot,
But the seat’s fuckin’ empty — ain’t nobody at the top.
Just a clueless ass body takin’ space and air,
While real work get done by the ones who care.
I don’t raise my voice — I raise the standard,
You raise excuses and blame like a cancer.
I ain’t angry, nah, I’m surgical, calm,
Just peel back the mask and expose the fraud.
So next time you beggin’, flustered, confused,
Remember this moment — your truth got tattooed.
When order collapsed and your script fell apart,
We all saw the gap between role and heart.
Black Lotus don’t shout — I document failure,
Frame by frame, bar by bar, truth sharper than razors.
And the verdict’s simple, clear, and revealed:
The motor was runnin’…
but nobody was behind the wheel
MIG1274
