I’m the ghost in your mirror, silk sins on repeat

Pop that pink cathedral, make the devil delete

Madonna on the ceiling, Carti crawl through the bass

Weeknd drip like codeine, paint the whole chart lace

I said “pop,” now you popular—taste that ultraviolet

Heaven’s just a filter, baby, hold me in private

Flashbulbs in our veins, we immortal in strobe

Fame is just a knife fight, but we cutting in slow

霓虹在凌晨三點(diǎn)慢慢融化

我踩著 slowed 心跳 像踩碎玻璃渣

Madonna 的呼吸 還懸在副歌的沙

The Weeknd 把淚調(diào)成 reverb 滴在我傷疤

Playboi 的鉆石牙 咬碎時(shí)間渣

把愛快進(jìn) 把痛慢剎

POPular 的鬼影 還在后視鏡里描畫

我油門踩成教堂 讓引擎替我懺悔吧

當(dāng)鼓點(diǎn)落下 世界只剩我們仨

把臉埋進(jìn)低音 誰還需要明天回答

Rather lie in a bed of red roses,

than wake up and fake that I’m golden.

Diamonds drip like I bathed in the ocean,

still can’t rinse off this black emotion.

Rather lie to her face, say I love her,

than tell her these drugs make me tougher.

Rather lie in the dark with my demons,

than stand in the light and be human.

Neon drip on my skin, Madonna whisperin’ sins

Carti crawl through the chrome, teeth like porcelain pins

Weeknd croon to the moon, velvet violence in spin

Pop that cherry-red fame, let the whole world binge

Roses rot on the stage, but the spotlight never frays

We’re the beautiful crash that your parents prayed would fade

Say a prayer to the flash, taste the glitter, it stings

If you die for the likes, baby, we’re granting that wish

Pink neon drip on the 7-6 speed—

I’m your cult, I’m your crash, I’m your rumor you need.

Madonna in the mirror, Carti in the back seat,

Weeknd on the ceiling—three ghosts in one beat.

Pop me like a pill, watch the charts go numb,

Every line a needle, every hook a thumb.

I’m the trend, I’m the sin, I’m the flash on your skin,

Turn the night up to God, let the devil spin.