🎤 VOLUME 4 — “NO AMMO LEFT” C.Y.M Final Battle

Lyrics

INTRO — Spoken, calm

Before you say anything…

Let me save you the trouble.

Yeah, I'm the guy who makes these songs.
Yeah, sometimes the lyrics are questionable.
Yeah, sometimes I sing like my neighbor's cat is stepping on my balls. 😂
And yes…

You two have been making fun of me for every song I've ever made.

So tonight…

I'm taking away your ammunition.

Anything you were gonna say about me…
I've already said it myself.

Now…

Your turn.

---

VERSE 1 — ME

Yeah, I'm not a rapper, I'm just a guy with a mic,
Sometimes I make a song that you absolutely don't like.
You say, "Bro, what is this?" I say, "It's art, my friend,"
You laugh for five minutes…

Then ask me to send it again. 😂

I know my voice ain't perfect, I know my flow ain't clean,
I know sometimes my lyrics get a little too damn deep.
But at least I'm making something, putting feelings on a track,
While two forty-year-old critics sit around and talk smack.

So that's everything, boys — nothing left to expose.
You can't attack me now…

I already opened the doors.

Now let's talk about Pipo…

---

VERSE 2 — MOHSIN AKA PIPO

Mohsin, my brother, you better listen real close,
Because I'm about to remind you of the thing you hate most. 😂

Remember Malika?

…

Yeah.

MALIKA. 😂😂

Look at Pipo's face — somebody turn down the light,
Forty years old and suddenly he's having flashbacks tonight.

"Don't mention her name!"

Brother, relax, it's history, it's fine,
But every time I say "Malika" you suddenly lose your mind. 😂

Then there was that morning, remember the plan?
"Meet me early," you said like a responsible man.
I called you, woke you up, face swollen from the bed,
You answered half asleep with a story in your head.

You said, "I'm at a government office."

Bro…

It was a PUBLIC HOLIDAY. 😂

Government office?

Closed.

You were lying in bed looking like you'd just fought a bear,
Pillow marks on your face, sleeping without a care.
You couldn't even construct a believable lie,
I'm looking at my phone like…

"This motherfucker really thinks I'm gonna buy this?"

---

CHORUS

You wanted jokes about me?

I already said them first.

You wanted ammunition?

I emptied the whole box.

Now Pipo, now Simo,
Tell me what you got…

'Cause when the beat drops…

I ain't stopping at the top.

CYM boys, forty years deep,
Still acting like we're sixteen every week.
You roast my music, I roast your life…

That's friendship, brother. Now let's finish the fight. 🔥

---

VERSE 3 — KCHIAA AKA SIMO

Now Simo…

Come take your seat.

Mr. Furniture himself, the king of the upholstery street.
You make couches, beds, you re-cover every chair,
But when we gave you our sofa…

Bro, did you send it to another country? 😂

We gave you one sofa.

ONE.

You took so damn long bringing that thing back,
We thought you were building a hotel around the back.

"Don't worry, it's almost finished."

Almost?

Brother, by the time you brought that sofa home,
we'd already forgotten what the living room looked like.

You said, "I'm working on it."

Yeah, we know.

Since the Stone Age. 😂

And then there's your music…

Oh God.

You don't listen to music.

You listen to psychological warfare.

Normal people hear a beat and think, "That's nice."

Simo hears:

BOOOOOOM—TSSSS—BOOOOOOM—TSSSS—EEEEEEEEE—

And goes:

"BROTHER! THIS IS BEAUTIFUL!"

Beautiful?!

It sounds like a washing machine having a nervous breakdown in the middle of the desert! 😂

---

VERSE 4 — SIMO'S NIGHT LIFE

You travel to festivals in places nobody can find,
Middle of nowhere with the craziest sounds mankind designed.

"Where's Simo?"

Somewhere in the mountains.

"Which mountains?"

"I don't know."

Perfect.

He's got his glasses, his smoke and his trance,
Finds some abandoned field and starts doing that dance.
Everybody's going crazy, speakers destroying the air,
Simo's in the middle like he doesn't have a care.

And you're forty, brother!

But somehow every party you're still looking around like:

"Where are the young people? I need to dance!" 😂

You work at night, sleep during the day,
Then disappear to another festival far away.

Meanwhile we're calling:

"Simo?"

Nothing.

"Simo?"

Nothing.

Then three days later:

"Brooooo, look at this festival!"

WE KNOW.

YOU'VE SENT US 400 VIDEOS. 😂

---

BATTLE BREAK — BEAT STOPS

ME:

Pipo…

You know what?

I actually respect you.

You're a music teacher.

You love guitar.

You built your dreams.

Even if your songwriting is questionable…

At least you keep playing.

PIPO:
"Yeah, but your songs—"

ME:

No.

I'm not finished.

Simo…

You're a craftsman.

You build things with your hands.

You make furniture.

You create.

You travel.

You chase music.

And you're crazy enough to disappear into the middle of nowhere for a festival.

BUT…

Both of you have one major problem.

You started making jokes about my songs.

And now…

I discovered songwriting is cheaper than therapy. 😂

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FINAL VERSE

So here we are, three boys from