ᴘʟᴀꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ☽ ᴄᴀᴘ

you talk big numbers, but your stats all fake,
Flexin’ on the ‘Gram with a borrowed chain,
Every post is a movie that you can’t maintain,
I see through you like a window with a cracked-up frame.
You a keyboard king with a plastic crown,
But in the real damn world, you don’t make a sound.
All that attitude you type, never hits the ground—
I’m the truth, you the rumor people pass around.

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