SAM

Yo Sam, it's tragic, man, this ain't hate,
You’re so light, wind could carry your weight.
Voice soundin' like a squeaky balloon,
Girls run off when you walk in the room.

TJ and Atkin takin' all your dates,
While you sittin’ home dreamin’ of fate.
Tryna flex cash like that’s your plan,
But money can’t fix what a mirror can.

Five years lonely, call it a streak,
Tryna DM love, but your game’s too weak.
Used to beg girls just to braid your hair,
So you could pretend someone actually cared.

Your squad? More like girlfriend thieves,
You stay third wheel while they achieve.
Got a Lambo heart with a tricycle face,
And your voice makes silence feel like grace.

You’re ugly bitch, that’s a tragic mix,
No swag, no pull—just money tricks.
But keep flexin' like you top shelf,
'Cause no one loves you like you love yourself.