Lyrics

(Intro)
Yo, Harry, you thought you could step in the ring?
This ain't the Premier League, it's the real thing.
(Verse 1)
Look, it's the striker with no silverware,
Scoring goals, but trophies? Rare.
You left Spurs for Bayern's fame,
But still, no Champions League to your name.
They call you England's top scorer, that's true,
But penalties pad your stats, who knew?
Rooney had grit, fire in his eyes,
You? Just a poacher in disguise.
You surpassed Wayne in goals, that's fine,
But where's your legacy? Where's your shine?
Rooney lifted trophies, led with might,
You chase records in the dead of night.
(Chorus)
This is the Final Whistle, aimed at your fame,
Exposing the truth behind your name.
You might score, but can't lead a team,
Your golden boot's just a hollow dream.
(Verse 2)
You moved to Munich, thought you'd win,
But still no Champions League, can't begin.
Your teammates pass, you miss the net,
Another season, another regret.
You broke records, that's your claim,
But football's more than just the game.
Leadership, passion, a will to fight,
Qualities you lack, out of sight.
Rooney was a beast, a true Red Devil,
You? Just a player on the level.
No fire, no drive, just empty stats,
A striker lost among the brats.
(Chorus)
This is the Final Whistle, aimed at your fame,
Exposing the truth behind your name.
You might score, but can't lead a team,
Your golden boot's just a hollow dream.
(Verse 3)
Remember that elbow on Gabriel's throat?
Should've seen red, that's all she wrote.
VAR turned a blind eye, what a joke,
Fans enraged, their fury awoke.
Diving against Everton, feigning pain,
Got Doucouré sent off, what a shame.
Even Van Dijk called out your act,
Said you dived, that's a fact.
Backing into players, causing falls,
Dangerous play, ignoring the calls.
Fans and pundits, they've had enough,
Your tactics, dirty, your style, rough.
(Bridge)
Pop culture references, let's intertwine,
You're the Voldemort of the football line.
No nose for goals that truly matter,
Your legacy? Just empty chatter.
Like Thanos, you aimed for the top,
But your snap didn't make the trophies drop.
You're more like Loki, tricks and deceit,
But in the end, always face defeat.
(Chorus)
This is the Final Whistle, aimed at your fame,
Exposing the truth behind your name.
You might score, but can't lead a team,
Your golden boot's just a hollow dream.
(Outro)
So here's the truth, plain and clear,
You're no legend, just a career.
Chasing numbers, avoiding the fight,
Harry Kane, you're out of sight.