no more

Lyrics

[Intro - lo-fi vinyl crackle, muffled 808s rumbling low, distant ad-libs echoing "no more... no more"]

Yeah, uh, no more...
Golf Wang in the cut, but I'm done with the front

[Verse 1 - bouncy trap hi-hats skittering, playful pitched-up auto-tune on vocals, quirky synth stabs like a warped carousel]
Woke up in the Odd Future crib, paint splattered on the walls,
Cherry Bomb dreams, but I'm ghostin' all the calls.
No more fake friends sippin' lean in the back of the van,
Wolf Gang howlin', but I'm slippin' out like sand.
Used to chase the high, Ferris wheel spinnin' wild,
Now I'm park it up, no more Ferris Bueller style.
Yonkers in my rearview, flower boy bloomin' dead,
Earl Sweatshirt whispers, "Earl, get out ya head."
No more posers posin' for the 'Gram with the flash,
I'm Igor on the keys, smashin' pianos to ash.

[Pre-Chorus - tension build with rising synth arpeggios, vocal ad-libs stacking "no more, nah nah", snare rolls accelerating]
Tired of the circus, the clowns and the smoke,
Pullin' up the curtain, time to choke—

[Chorus - massive 808 bass drops sidechained, distorted auto-tune hooks, hype ad-libs "no more!" overlapping, full trap brass hits]
No more, no more, I'm done with the show!
No more fake love, let the real ones go!
No more chains, no more games, no more dough,
Tyler in the driver seat, watch the whole world blow!
No more, no more, cut the cord, let it flow!
No more puppets, I'm the director now, yo!

[Verse 2 - glitchy vocal chops stuttering, off-kilter piano loops, heavy sub-bass growls, rapid-fire flow with Tyler-esque tangents]
Call Me If You Get Lost, but don't hit my line,
French fry in the Phantom, but the thrill's outta time.
No more garden boys, weeds takin' over the plot,
She sellin' seashells? Nah, I'm buyin' the yacht.
Mom's spaghetti stains on the stage, what a mess,
Now I'm chef in the kitchen, cookin' stress to finesse.
No more sandbox beef, buildin' castles in the air,
Chromakopia spinnin', but I'm pullin' up the chair.
Peach fuzz on the fanny pack, nostalgia's a trap,
Swipe left on the past, future's on the map.

[Bridge - stripped to echoing reverb vocals, minimal heartbeat kick drum, haunting flute melody fading in, vulnerable half-rapped confession]
Why I keep runnin' laps in the same damn maze?
No more echoes, no more haze...
Break the mirror, seven years? Fuck it, that's the phase.
No more...

[Chorus - even bigger drop, layered gang vocals chanting "no more", warped horn blasts, crowd hype samples]
No more, no more, I'm done with the show!
No more fake love, let the real ones go!
No more chains, no more games, no more dough,
Tyler in the driver seat, watch the whole world blow!
No more, no more, cut the cord, let it flow!
No more puppets, I'm the director now, yo!

[Outro - slowing tempo, vinyl scratch fades, echoing "no more" ad-libs dissolving into static, final 808 tail rumble]
No more... yeah, no more...
Golf out.