Lyrics

I hate Mrbest and I give bomb vests to the Middle East I definitely deserve the homeless festival I stoped world hunger by putting kids in my nursery kill chameleon llaallalalalalalalallaallalalal I fucking love dingos a dingo ate my lunch and then went home to Madi
Yo Sinclair…
Or should I say CometYT?
Used to be a fan, now I’m your worst nightmare.
This one’s for the false flag you hit me with.
I ain’t holdin’ back.
I ripped your posters off my wall,
Used to watch you, now I want you to fall.
Lyin’ to your fans behind that fake smile,
Sinclair, been a fraud all the while.
You hit my channel with a false report,
Now I’m comin’ back, bringin’ real heat to court.
No more idol, just another name to shame,
You’re a comet? Naw, just a flicker in the flame.
Sinclair, tell your parents what you really are,
A backstabbin’ faker, not a YouTube star.
Got fake subs, fake views, fake vibes too,
You botted up your channel just to break through.
Every milestone? Algorithm lies,
Paid your way up while I’m grinding with pride.
You ain’t earned respect, you just stole the stage,
Like a kid with a lighter near a gas flame—rage.
Reportin’ me ‘cause I was gainin’ fast,
Tryna cut me down like your fame gon’ last?
You silenced truth, now I’m breakin’ the sound,
Your rep’s built on sand, and I’m tearin’ it down.
You flaggin’ vids ‘cause you scared of my growth,
While you hide behind screens, I’m out here makin’ oaths:
Never trust a faker wearin’ “humble” like a mask,
Never let a comet pass without exposin’ its past.
Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, you raised a fraud,
Built a platform just to lie to God.
He ain’t the boy you think he is,
He hides the truth behind his biz.
He ain’t uplifting, he manipulates,
Destroys small channels, then celebrates.
Look at his past – all smoke, no spark,
Your boy ain’t bright, just another shot in the dark.
I ripped your posters off my wall,
Used to cheer loud, now I pray you fall.
From a fan to your worst PR storm,
Every lie you told just fed this form.
You hit me once, now I’m swingin’ back,
Full clip of facts in a lyrical attack.
Comet crashin’ from a false report call,
Sinclair, you the reason why legends fall.
Your videos dry, ain’t got soul or class,
Just recycled trends tryna milk the past.
Your merch is weak, your bars are dead,
Your edits stale, like moldy bread.
You talk about grind, but that’s just cap,
Bought your numbers like a cheap loot pack.
Analytics padded like your ego too,
Got a million subs, but we all see through.
I was real with my fans, never played that game,
Never needed bots just to chase some fame.
You flex on Twitter like you’re royalty now,
But deep down, you just scared of the crowd.
Every collab you begged, every shoutout you schemed,
Built on a pyramid of hollow dreams.
I rise with fire, you fall with lies,
You Comet? Nah, just a meteor that dies.
When your fans find out, what you really be?
Just Sinclair the snake on a fake silver screen.
I love little boys