Overcook the Show

Intro

Yeah, ayy, whoo

Turn the lights up, turn the mic up, ayy

(skrrt, skrrt)

Verse

You clickbait captain with the rainbow thumbnail grin, ayy

Talk a big game, but your feed's a vending bin, yeah

Said you changed the game — boy, I watched the reruns, uh

All recycled thrills, same trick with different drums, ayy

Camera cuts, dramatic pause, the same old stunt

Caption screams “exclusive” but the act is blunt

You flex with rented gear, rented friends, rented laughs

Counting rented likes until the storyline collapses, ha

You claim authenticity but script says otherwise

Lip-synced outrage, rehearsed surprise, uh-huh

Comments full of clout-chasers, parrots in the nest

They hype your every move while the rest of us digest

You act like you invented fire, but it’s just a match, yeah

I drop a little heat, you wilt — overcooked, detached

Your roast is dry, your sauce is gone, no flavor in the cut

Say you’re “raw” but you were boxed and vacuumed shut, ayy

You chase trends like it’s a marathon with no finish line

Bouncing from one fad to the next, out of time, out of mind

You shout for attention like it’s oxygen you crave

But your palace of cards falls slow — watch it cave, ha

Talk about the numbers like they prove your legacy

But views are just decimals without integrity

You’re a highlight reel with zero spine, so basic, so brittle

I’m the critique with teeth — chew you up a little

Pre-chorus

All that sizzle, no steak, yeah

All that noise, no weight, ayy

You wanna play big league, but you can't make the plate, no

Fakin' the flavor, fakin' the fame, uh

Chorus

Steak, you overcook the show — over, overcook the show (Steak)

Steak, you overcook the show — over, overcook the show (yeah)

Steak, you overcook the show — over, overcook the show (ayy)

Steak, you overcook the show — over, overcook the show (whoo)

Verse

I’m in the comments section cleaning house with a broomstick, ayy

You’re selling mystery boxes but the prize is nonsense, uh

Your content's like leftovers — microwaved again

Same jokes, new angle, same fake friend

You preach originality but mimic like a mime, yeah

Borrowed punchlines, rented rhymes, always past due on time

You stunt like you’re the king, wearing cardboard on a throne

Crowd clap 'cause the beat says clap, not 'cause they believe your tone

You hype up fake feuds for a spike in the chart

But drama with a script is just theater, not art

I see the thumbnails — faces, flames, big teeth

But underneath the filter’s thin, your truth's beneath

You sell a portrait of success with a crooked frame

Polished to a sheen but the picture's just the same

You ghost your past mistakes but they keep the receipts

We remember everything you tried to bury in repeat

This ain’t personal — it’s business, it’s critique, it’s real

Expose the empty echo of the way you make us feel, uh

You ride the algorithm like a seat with no cushion

When the wave