Lyrics

(Verse 1)
Yo, I tuned in, thought I’d see some heat,
Houston vs. Florida, take a courtside seat.
But man, from tip-off it was pain to see,
No rhythm, no pace, just a foul spree.
Refs blowin’ whistles like a sad parade,
Every other play, someone gettin’ laid—
Out on the floor, not with skill or flair,
Just bodies hittin’ hardwood, floppin’ everywhere.
(Chorus)
It’s a foul game, slow and dry,
No dunks, no splash, just whistles fly.
Mathias sittin’ there, feelin’ real bad,
Sippin’ on boredom, yeah, he lookin’ sad.
It’s a foul game, no thrill, no vibe,
Just stoppin’ the clock like they tryna kill time.
Yo, where the hype? Where the crowd goin’ wild?
This ain’t the game, man—it’s trial by mild.
(Verse 2)
Houston playin’ like they scared to shoot,
Florida answerin’ with more dispute.
Bounce pass, turnover, travel call,
Refs tryna be the MVPs of it all.
No fast breaks, no crossover shake,
Just broken plays and free throws to take.
Mathias in the stands like, “Why’d I come?”
Thought it’d be lit, but this game is numb.
(Bridge)
Even the mascots fallin’ asleep,
Crowd half-gone, concessions cheap.
Scoreboard stuck, feelin’ like a glitch,
Basketball gods flippin’ the switch.
(Chorus)
It’s a foul game, slow and dry,
No dunks, no splash, just whistles fly.
Mathias sittin’ there, feelin’ real bad,
Sippin’ on boredom, yeah, he lookin’ sad.
It’s a foul game, no thrill, no vibe,
Just stoppin’ the clock like they tryna kill time.
Yo, where the hype? Where the crowd goin’ wild?
This ain’t the game, man—it’s trial by mild.
(Outro)
So next time I see that matchup card,
I’ll pass on pain, won’t take it that hard.
Mathias deserves better, that’s the truth,
Not this foul-fest wastin’ our youth.