INTRO (Delivery: silent stare, intense eye contact with audience, then burst into the first line) (Soundscape: rumbling static, low bass hum) Drop beat. Let chaos purr.
VERSE 1 (Delivery: rhythmic, fierce, bratty and deliberate. Own the crowd.) I’m fucked off, pissed on, tired as shit,
Running on caffeine, spite, and one last tit.
I’m a burnout Barbie with rage in her soul,
And I’ll throat-punch a rainbow to feel in control.
My brain’s a bad trip, my mood’s in the bin,
This close to licking tequila off sin.
Got no more spoons, just knives and a grin,
And a voodoo doll made of next week’s “should’ve been.”
PRE-CHORUS (Delivery: build tension with voice and posture. Say it louder each line.) Don’t come near me with “positive vibes,”
I’ve got middle fingers doing the tribal jive.
If peace is a path, I’m a fucking landslide—
Glitter bomb bitch with a demon inside.
CHORUS (Delivery: SHOUT this. Rally cry. Full power. Eye contact. March. Stomp. Fists up.) SAY MY NAME — IT’S BROOKER, BITCH!
I’m the meltdown queen with a chaos twitch!
I don’t need calm, I don’t need shame,
I need snacks, a mic, and a war cry name!
BROOKER! BROOKER! Say it loud, say it raw—
If I break down, I break the fucking law.
So pass the crown and get outta my lane,
‘Cause I don’t suffer fools — I rename pain.
VERSE 2 (Delivery: strong strut across stage, flirty and feral. Pointed and rhythmic.) I’m a cuntstorm in combat boots,
A tantrum goddess in attitude suits.
Tears like lube for emotional doom,
And I cry-fuck life in the laundry room.
I don’t do balance—I do breakdown chic.
With mascara streaks and a rage technique.
I bless your house with PMS spells,
And I curse your zen with glittery yells.
BRIDGE (RAP RANT) (Delivery: fast-paced, like a sermon at a punk church. Laugh and sneer where it fits.) Fuck your crystals, fuck your breath,
Fuck your juice cleanse and your “silent death.”
I want fries, a vibe, a battery toy,
And the sacred right to destroy and annoy.
I’m not your calm, I’m your witchy regret,
A hot mess bitch with no fucks left.
So light the candles, burn the sage—
I’ll still shove it up your namaste.
CHORUS 2 (Delivery: bigger than the first. Dance. Stomp. Channel full Brooker power. Get the crowd screaming with you.) SAY MY NAME — IT’S BROOKER, BITCH!
I’m the holy hellfire in a velvet stitch!
Don’t need fixing, don’t want tame,
Just my crown, my claws, and my fuck-off flame.
BROOKER! BROOKER! Screaming through the shame—
If I fall apart, I do it in fame.
So cue the lights and drop that bass—
I’m the queen of chaos with glitter on her face.
OUTRO (CHANT-WHISPER) (Delivery: soft, sultry, powerful. Slow walk forward. Mic drop at the end.) I don’t need peace—I am the riot.
I don’t need quiet—I am the siren.
I don’t need love—I am the ache.
I don’t need fixing—
I just need cake.
