You fell off </3 (Saltgirl123)

(Street version – no club lights, just red and blue in the rearview, trunk rattlin’ blocks away)

**Intro** (masked-up voice, ski on, AR drum in the background)  
Yeah… pull up slow on her block, windows half  
This that “Salt Girl Fell Off” murder music  
Free my dawgs, fuck the algorithm  
Let’s work.

**Hook** (gritty, half-sung, half-spat)  
Salt girl fell off, left her crown in the dirt  
Whole hood seen the paperwork, bitch you a clerk  
All that AI spam, them bot-ass verses you drop  
Sound like a robot throwin’ up on a cracked laptop  
Touch grass? Nah, touch curb, get stomped in the street  
It’s my app, my block, my pack; bow down to the heat  
Run up a check on her grave, that’s a million in peace  
Salt season over, pussy; rest in grease  

**Verse 1** (pure street talk, no filter)  
I caught her slippin’ outside the Boost Mobile store  
Face lookin’ like Wish shipped it and ain’t ship no more  
Belly pokin’ through the Fashion Nova, zipper cryin’ for help  
Whole fit screamin’ “I financed this on Afterpay myself”  
She was spammin’ in the comments, I was loadin’ up the Drac’  
Every post a cry for help, every like a fake  
Heard her new song in the trap; everybody hit skip  
Sound like Alexa gettin’ choked with a USB-C tip  
I put a bounty on her clout, dead or alive  
Ten bands if you bring me the hard drive where her real face hide  
She a opp in a wig, whole timeline federal  
I’m the new plug for the viral, she the old cracked bezel  

**Hook**  

**Verse 2** (even darker, ski mask voice deeper)  
Pull up masked up, black tee say “She Fell Off” in blood drip  
Your streams so low they need life support and a blood drip  
You was payin’ for bots, I was payin’ for the lawyer  
Now the judge threw the book, said your career need a coroner  
Talkin’ tough on live till the Wi-Fi cut  
Now she cryin’ in the Kia, mascara runnin’ like a slut  
Heard your baby daddy left when the views went ghost  
Took the PS5 and the ring light, left you roast  
I’m in the trap cookin’ real, you in the kitchen with ChatGPT  
Your bars taste like plastic, mine hit like fentanyl in the street  
Whole gang screamin’ “fuck her page,” that’s on the set  
Turn her profile pic to a memorial, that’s a threat  

**Final Hook** (slowed + screwed, almost whispered)  
Salt girl fell off… left her ass in the past  
Fake as fuck… whole image made of glass  
It’s my app, my block, my pack, my word  
Bow down or get put in the dirt; you heard.  

(Beat cuts cold. One gunshot sound. Crickets.)  

[No hook after that. Just tires screechin’ out.  
This ain’t for the club no more; this for the trenches.  
Play it once and delete the evidence.]

Trap, Nu Metal,Rage, Rap Metal, Southern Trap, Diss Track, Battle Rap, Industrial, Steady 808 bass line, Phonk, Rage