Don’t put it on me when the night go cold,
you had the match, you let it fold.
Talked big love, then ghosted slow—
that ain’t my smoke, that’s your echo.
I’m sipping straight, no chaser guilt,
while you’re still scrolling what we built.
Cry in my comments, call it art—
but karma hits harder than a broken heart.
Tag me in tears, I’m already gone;
I was the song, you just sang it wrong.