Drive-Thru Deathmatch

Lyrics

Intro
low voice, echoing
Pull up, pull up
Engine rumblin' in the rain
Four logos on the block
Only one gon’ reign

(yeah)
Order up
War zone in the parking lot
Drive-thru deathmatch
Who want the top spot?

Chorus
Welcome to the drive-thru deathmatch
Four kings, one crown, that’s a mismatch (woo)
Windows fogged up, money in the bag
Spoils in a sack, whole crew gon’ brag

Who run the block when the grease start to pop?
Who keep it hot when the line don’t stop? (skrrt)
Feast in the whip, blood in the deal
Fast food war, tell me who’s real?

[Verse 1 – McDonald’s (gritty baritone, laid-back flex)]
Golden sign glowin’ on the freeway late
Whole world know me, I don’t gotta debate
Got kids on the playland, bosses on break
From the suburbs out to the city estate

Two-patty classic in a cardboard throne
You learned how to crave from the taste I own
Milkshake thick, yeah it clog they phone
‘Cause the line so long, hit a busy tone

Red and yellow on my chest, that’s armor
Clown in the past, now I’m label’d a charmer
I fed your father, yeah I fed your mama
I been in your memories, that’s lifelong karma

Big bag combo, that’s generational
Sauce on the seat, that’s conversational
You talk top tier? That’s aspirational
Every other little chain just rotational

I seen diets rise, I seen trends fall
Still every exit, you gon’ see my call
You can crown who you want in this food court brawl
But you know who the kids pick first, be honest y’all (uh)

Pre-Chorus
Pull up, pull up
Card tap, lights flash (lights flash)
Four names printed on the side of the trash (too real)
One bite in and your pride might crash
Who still stand when the fryer splash?

Chorus
Welcome to the drive-thru deathmatch
Four kings, one crown, that’s a mismatch
Windows fogged up, money in the bag
Spoils in a sack, whole crew gon’ brag (let’s go)

Who run the block when the grease start to pop?
Who keep it hot when the line don’t stop?
Feast in the whip, blood in the deal
Fast food war, tell me who’s real?

[Verse 2 – Burger King (cold, clipped male, slightly arrogant)]
Look, I don’t need a clown, I wear my own crown
Flame in my logo, I burn y’all down
You press your patties, I kiss mine with heat
That smoky talk is how kings gon’ eat

Drive-thru throne, I sit calm, unbothered
Whole menu built like I bred straight robbers
Extra layer, stack it high, that’s honor
Hold both hands for the size of this offer

Your burger look flat, my stack got posture
Goth kid, jock kid, all in my roster
I’m that late-night spot that your ex still misses
Side-eye, onion ring, salty lil’ kisses

I walk in the kitchen like, “Turn that up”
Grill mark scars on a paper cup
You talkin’ value? I’m talkin’ choice
Put respect on the bass in my voice

You a dollar-menu dream, I’m a rebel in grease
You a happy lil’ meal, I’m a villain unleashed
You play family-friendly, I feast with beasts
In this drive-thru duel, I’m the flame-scorched priest

Pre-Chorus
Pull up, pull up
Lights on, rain hiss (skrrt)
Four bags heavy in a passenger’s fist
Salt in the cuts, pride on the list
One wrong move and your brand get dissed

Chorus
Welcome to the drive-thru deathmatch
Four kings, one crown, that’s a mismatch (yeah)
Windows fogged up, money in the bag
Spoils in a sack