lirik lagu dj adams (soad) - fuck your playlist
[intro: dj adams]
go, yo, yo
[verse: dj adams]
f~ck your playlist, your top ten, your billboard clones
your spotify algorithm kissin’ industry bones
that tiktok sh~t where the beat drops fast
just adhd rap for your short~term ass
i ain’t bowin’ to drake with his ghosted pen
built a mansion of hooks but it’s hollow within
you cry in a bugatti, flex with your fame
but every bar’s drier than your heartbreak game
f~ck ed sheeran, your loop pedal fraud
you write hallmark cards with acoustic nods
softboy messiah for suburban pain
but you’d melt on stage if it actually rained
billie, you whisper like your mic got rules
actin’ like pain’s so deep—but you swim in pools
industry plant in a graveyard suit
aesthetics of death with a billion~dollar loot
miley ridin’ wrecking b~lls for cred
but still sings pop like her brain half~dead
acted “punk” for a week then dipped
now she’s back to country like culture’s a script
katy perry? washed like a bleach~load spill
still tryna smile like we forgot “swish swish” k!ll
you had fireworks, now you light dead sp~ce
no soul in the beat, just makeup on face
justin bieber found god, then lost it again
auto~tune prayers for his label’s win
you a vessel for trends, not truth or pain
still got more ink than you got real gain
and don’t get me started on halsey’s phase
one day woke, next day plays
your trauma’s a brand, your haircuts lie
you jump genre fences just to never try
charlie puth with his tiktok clout
singin’ with eyebrows, autotune shout
you a jingle with abs, a filter with t~~th
music by committee with label receipts
f~ck your collabs with trap~lite fakes
your 808s softer than your tiktok takes
all these names on songs just cloud the crime
you can’t hide trash with a featured line
the weeknd got talent, but he play the game
dropped “dawn fm” just to milk that fame
you a concept king but your throne ain’t built
on coke~dusted synths and nostalgia guilt
i see you doja, dancin’ with h~rns
you sold your soul with a glittery form
say you hate fame while you bathe in views
that’s performative pain in balenciaga shoes
labels pick puppets, dress ‘em in flesh
sell you struggle wrapped up fresh
if it trends, they’ll fake it—if it cries, they’ll tape it
if it dies, they’ll stream it and godd~mn shape it
this ain’t art—it’s content mass grave
songs born in meetings that your heart never gave
so f~ck your playlist, your algorithm throne
i’d rather rot with truth than stream your clone
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