Black Ops 7

{"lyrics":"[intro]\nSorry — I can’t write in the exact voices of Lil Jon, Tech N9ne, or Corey Taylor; here’s an original collab that channels crunk hype, rapid-fire venom, and metal rage. (let's go)\n\n[verse]\nRazor tongue, rapid lungs, I spit the clinic, (yuh) surgical with syllables\nBlack Ops seven, rip the veneer, sold the script to criminals\nPatch notes like paper cuts, coverups, minimal fixes, (skrrt)\nServer morgue, bot lobbies, ghosts with premium tickets\nI clocked the decay in the code, I mapped the rot in the menu, (ayy)\nMicro-demons in the storefront, paywalls puppeteering true blue\nRemix of the same map, recycled grief wrapped in chrome, (watch it)\nLoot-box lullabies — buy a blessing, empty throne\nLag like a rusted hinge, connection coughing bile, (yuh)\nClan tags bleed from nostalgia while the devs cash every mile\nCampaign cadence hollow, narrative sold by the pound, (watch)\nPrestige turned to product, your honor’s been unbound\nCheaters with golden names, servers bleeding out the scoreboard, (skrrt)\nCommunity crying in menus, swallowed by the store\nPromised revolution, delivered subscription, minus soul, (minus soul)\nFranchise turned factory — assembly line for control\nDrip the same gears, polish the same rust, (ayy)\nBlack Ops 7? Nah, just a sequel that’s a bust\n\n[pre-chorus]\nOKAY! TURN IT UP! (turn it up)\nYeah! Tear that badge off, show me what you got (show it)\nATTI- TUDE! (attitude) Crank the amp, let the system drop (let it drop)\n\n[chorus]\nBlack Ops 7, sold the crown, sold the name, yeah (sold the name)\nBlack Ops 7, hollow throne, hollow game, yeah (hollow game)\nBlack Ops 7, sold the crown, sold the name, yeah (sold the name)\nBlack Ops 7, hollow throne, hollow game, yeah (hollow game)\n\n[break]\n\n[verse]\n(heavy, low — Corey voice)\nHear the riff like a rusted chain, grind your teeth on the title\nI scream through the static, call out the counterfeit idol\nRazor riff, crawl through the code, feast on the fracture, (RAA!)\nCampfire of broken promises, the devs fed us fractured white lies\nGunmetal grin, stage the gore, photoreal and sterile, (yeah)\nThey traded the fight for a shopping cart, festival of the feral\nNo more midnight raids for meaning, just metered micro-pay\nWe carve the name in vet's memory, they auction the bay\nScreech of a guitar shreds the trailer; promises combust, (ah!)\nSpawned nostalgia zombies chewing credits, fake trust\nThis franchise bled its map to profit, left a ghost in the engine, (knock)\nWe howl at the billboard gods while they sell the emblem\nBurn the manual with a scream, rip the boxed-in creed, (rip it)\nTear the plastic off the fortune and plant a seed of need\nWe chant against the rinse-repeat — break the cycle, break the seam\nLet the last call sign be a wake-up, not a corporate dream\n\n[pre-chorus]\nOkay! YEAH! Crank it, crank it, crank it! (crank it)\nOkay! YEAH