Patch Notes to My Prime

[Intro]
Got outplayed
By a fourth grader
Trash talk in my headset
Like a commentator (wow)
[Verse 1]
I used to drop nukes back in high school
Top of every lobby, I was that dude
Now I log on after working all day
Loading into matches just to get outplayed
Little kid yelling, “EZ, EZ”
I’m reading the controls like a DVD
He’s doing trick shots, spinning like a Beyblade
I’m just trying not to walk into the same grenade (again)
[Chorus]
Patch notes to my prime, they nerfed my hands
Reaction time lagging in every match I’m in
I swear I was a legend back in twenty-ten
Now I’m getting no-scoped by a child again
Patch notes to my pride, they hit so hard
Ten-year-old cooking me like it’s his job
I’m yelling “one more game” at 2 AM
Then I fall asleep in the loading screen again (so sad)
[Verse 2]
Boot up 2K, I’m feeling real confident
Talking like a coach, “this is fundamentals”
He picks the worst team, playing on a tiny screen
Dropping thirty on my head, doing celebrations
“Uncle, you trash,” he says with a smile
I’m sweating every layup like it’s overtime
Hands kinda sweaty but it’s not like before
It’s just my carpal tunnel asking for a break mid-score (hold up)
[Chorus]
Patch notes to my prime, they nerfed my hands
Reaction time lagging in every match I’m in
I swear I was a legend back in twenty-ten
Now I’m getting no-scoped by a child again
Patch notes to my pride, they hit so hard
Ten-year-old cooking me like it’s his job
I’m yelling “one more game” at 2 AM
Then I fall asleep in the loading screen again (I’m done)
[Bridge]
Remember split screen, pizza on the floor
Arguing all night who got top score
Now my back hurts from this gaming chair
And these tiny trash talkers got me saying “that’s not fair” (for real)
[Chorus]
Patch notes to my prime, they nerfed my hands
Reaction time lagging in every match I’m in
I swear I was a legend back in twenty-ten
Now I’m getting no-scoped by a child again
Patch notes to my pride, they hit so hard
Ten-year-old cooking me like it’s his job
They dancing on my grave at the end-game screen
Guess I’m just the final boss from the old DLC (game over)

rap, Playful trap-pop with male vocals over bright steel drum plucks and bouncy 808s. Verses stay conversational with tight hi-hats and sparse piano; chorus opens up with wide synth pads, layered chanty backing vocals, and a heavier kick. Occasional comedic ad-libs and pitched-down doubles on punchlines, with a short melodic bridge that pulls the energy back before a final big hook., pop, male vocals