Fresh Tilapia

(Category is… Fresh Tilapia!)

Fan clack!

Heels click!

Spotlight on!

Let’s go!

Walked in fishy, looking supreme

Serving face like a magazine

Crystal nails, rhinestone glow

Baby, watch this runway show

Hair laid, makeup clean

Living out my fantasy dream

Every step gets a standing ovation

This is queer celebration

They stare? Let ‘em stare.

They talk? I don’t care.

I’m booked, I’m blessed, I’m on my way—

Now watch me slay.

Fresh tilapia!

Serving looks like “hallelujah!”

Pose, pose—camera, flash!

Confidence in every sash!

Fresh tilapia!

Baby, I’m the main arena!

Werk the room from A to Z

Nobody does it fresh like me!

Fresh out the dressing room, face on ten,

Walk in once, now they’re gagging again.

Sequins hit like a disco light,

Turn one look into an overnight hype.

“That’s so gay!”—Yeah, thanks, I know.

Pride in my step everywhere I go.

“Be a real man!”—I’m real enough.

Confidence like mine? That’s the tough stuff.

“You need Jesus!”—Honey, He knows my name.

Love beats fear; that’s the whole damn game.

“You’re too much!”—I’m exactly enough.

You call it extra, I call it fabulous.

Clack goes the fan when I finish my speech,

Confidence is something you can’t teach.

Read me once? I’ll smile and wave.

I’m too busy being iconic, babe.

No room for hate on this dance floor tonight,

Only glitter, love, and flashing lights.

Bring your joy, your heels, your crew—

There’s enough spotlight for all of you.

Clack! Clack!

Werk!

Pose!

Spin!

Ten! Ten! Ten across the board!

(Ballroom beat switch with heavy house bass)

Fresh tilapia!

Everybody screaming, “Hallelujah!”

Strike a pose, don’t hold back,

Leave the haters in the back.

Fresh tilapia!

Serving love is the procedure.

Hands up high, come dance with me—

Fresh forever, wild and free!

Fan closed.

Heels off.

Crown still on.

Now… sashay away.