Mac, You Buffered Out

Intro

Yeah, yeah, ayy

Listen up, listen up (listen)

Skrrt, ayy

Verse

Mac, you show up with a borrowed crown, paper thin like photocopy paper (paper)

Talking big bankrolls but you fold at every chapter, amateur caper

Your bars got permission slips, signed in invisible ink

I bring receipts and razor rhymes, you bring a link that don't sync

You server crash, I run the mainframe, upgrade mode (uh)

You stuck on demo tracks, I'm stadium code, overload

You chew on borrowed lines, regurgitate other people's flows

I'm the last page of the textbook where the real solution shows

You clap when someone else succeeds, applause for the rent-a-clout

I build my sound from grit and smoke — you plug in and power out (power out)

Your mirror's just a glossy screen, reflections filtered, sold

I got scars on my palms from writing truth in gold

You market smoke, I manufacture storms — thunder in my lane

You whisper PR-friendly lies, I shout facts like a train

Your name's a status symbol, I make the name a target

You try to spark a movement; I pull the whole market

You flash like cheap chrome, I weather like iron, rust to shine

You ghostwrite your hype, I rhyme my life, line for line (line for line)

Pre-chorus

Hey (hey), watch the slow fade, watch the slow fade (slow fade)

All your angles sharpened up by a camera brigade

We see through the filters, we see through the parade

Your castle's cardboard, I'm the architect of shade (shade)

Chorus

Mac, you buffered out, Mac, you buffered out (yeah) Mac, you buffered out (ayy) Mac, you buffered out (skrrt)

Mac, you buffered out, Mac, you buffered out (nah) Mac, you buffered out (go) Mac, you buffered out (out)

Verse

You rep brand names like armor but it's Velcro on the seams

I rep late-night truth, you rep morning shows and memes

You chase clout in parking lots, I claim stages, stakes, and seats

You got a roster of yes-men; I got enemies that speak

They say you're original — original like reruns

I bring new episodes every season, you recycle old stunts

Your rhymes are vending-machine candy — sweet, then flat

My lines are rare vinyl cuts, crackle with a snap

You call it big flex, I call it small talk dressed in leather

You fall into the tropes, I carve my words out of better

I watch your foundation tilt; it's settling, it's hollow

You keep asking for a crown but never learn to follow

You got a highlight reel but the footage all rehearsed

I got footage of the climb — the blood, the curse, the work

You trade in rumors, spun like clickbait headlines

I trade in truth that lingers — syllables like landmines

You float on borrowed warmth, I burn with steady coal

You make department-store dreams; I make gold out of soul

So sit down, reset, take notes, learn the route

When they whisper who's the real one — they'll spell it out

Bridge

Oh, oh-oh (oh), na-na, uh-huh

Say my name when you remember what real sounds like (