I'm Not Your Draft

Testo

[Intro] I won’t say please just to make you feel tall. You know my name; you still get it wrong. [Verse 1] I keep my plans in a lunchbox latch, You keep your promises loose like change. I count my wins in the marks on my thumb, Not in the stories you tell at brunch. You say, “Be patient,” I say, “For what?” Your big advice got a tiny receipt. I learned to bargain with my own doubt, Paid it in jokes, then walked out clean. No pose. No pause. I’m early to the place you’re late to. You brought a speech; I brought proof. A cracked old metronome keeps time in my bag, And it runs more honest than you. I make one move, you make a thread, I finish the job while you caption the start. Your friends call it luck when I land on my feet; I call it practice and a stubborn heart. [Chorus] Say it once: I’m not your draft. Say it twice: I’m not your draft. You keep the title, I keep the facts. I’m not your draft; I’m the final laugh. [Verse 2] You tried to price me by the shoes I wore, I checked your math and kept walking on. My auntie says, “Beta, eat before you leave,” I take two parathas, then prove her right. I know the back stair skips one step, I know which cousin can fix a fan. You know the names on every guest list; I know who shows when there’s no plan. Bas, enough. Look at me. You talk like a boss with a borrowed pen. I write my own line, then write it again. You can keep that grin for the group photo, I’m busy making the rent come in. My rhythm has elbows; it gets through a crowd, My punchline lands, then it asks for chai. You call me stubborn; I call it a spine, You call me extra; I call it my size. [Chorus] Say it once: I’m not your plan. Say it twice: I’m not your plan. You keep the title, I keep the facts. I’m not your plan; I’m the final laugh. [Bridge] You thought I would fold when the room went quiet, I counted to four, then spoke my piece. You thought I’d ask for a softer answer, I asked for the number and checked the fee. I don’t need your blessing stamped in ink, I need you to stop moving the goal. [Verse 3] I turn a “maybe” into “watch me,” You turn a sure thing into a meeting. My pocket has one mint and a bus token— I’m not listing the token; just know I’m still eating. You look for a shortcut; I learn the route, You want a crown; I want my cut. I’m not your lesson, your mascot, your proof, I’m the one who came back when you said “enough.” Say less. Stand close. You can keep your rules in a folder you never open. I’ll keep my word when the deal is broken. And if you ask me to shrink for your comfort, I’ll take up the space you left unclaimed. [Outro] I won’t say please just to make you feel tall. You can keep asking; I’m still saying no.