Introspective spoken-word rap ballad in the vein of Lil Uggy — raw, unfiltered, brutally honest male confessional rap. Relaxed, conversational delivery like a late-night heart-to-heart talk, slow-to-mid tempo flow (around 70-90 BPM), laid-back beat with deep 808s, minimal trap hi-hats, subtle piano or melancholic guitar undertones, lo-fi vibe. Vocals: deep, drawling male voice (think introspective underground rap like early Mac Miller meets gritty spoken-word poetry), slight auto-tune for emotional texture but mostly natural/raw. Emphasize rhythmic spoken delivery over fast bars, with pauses for emphasis on punchlines and truths. Dark humor, self-deprecating, no-glory motivational edge. Chorus should be catchy, repetitive hook with layered ad-libs/echoes on "Don't matter. Have sex." Overall mood: cynical yet liberating, motivational in a nihilistic way.
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Lyrics
[Verse Flip]
Flip the script ladies, it’s time fo me to holla at chu, Off them high horses—BOOM! Shoot em dead. Make glue. Thinkin you all queens deserving the sun AND the moon… Hah! Oblivious to half the shit we men do and do and do fo you, So your baby daddy's Uggy and he hung like a hog. Not every man you bangin needa be swingin a log. So what if he got the smallest tool in yo shed? Set sail, fo that mattress become a water bed. As kids girls threw words like knives, cos I'm short. Vertically challenged. With nothin to say, a dork, bereft of a retort. Still somehow I've managed. Truth is, I like bein face-level with them teets. I ain't got regrets bein under 6-feet. Now I'm speakin to all y'all ingrates and crazies... Be smart. Be humble. Keep playin for them maybes. So she, or even he, keepin it zipped up tight? If you ain't eatin', feed the bank. Cos money is time. There ain't enough secs to spend chasin sex. Save yo dime. But they horsefaced-friend is giving you the eye? Fuck it--ride him dry! Or give her the spread instead. So they not as fine. Why not be licked or get some head? Work hard to keep em cummin', and coming round, if able. Better sittin proud than eatin scraps underneath the table. If you finna graduate then you best not masturbate. Life is the test...
[Chorus]
If yo ass always in trouble so you do as she directs, Don't matter. Have sex. If this boss-bitch wear the pants, cos you ain't the apex, Don't matter. Have sex. If you think yo girl is pissed, and she say that she not, but she still do that shit where she sit with her arms crossed and her legs turned away from you, and she go into the bathroom and re-draw her eyebrows so they angry, but still says she fine, so you give up and accept it, but THEN she get mad and accuse you of not caring bout her feelins after SHE refused to talk about it in the first place, AND YOU LOOK PERPLEXED, Don't matter. Have sex. If you try to talk her down with logic but it don't connects, Don't matter. Have sex. [Refrain] Don't matter. Have sex. (x3)
Remember what I said, lest you gonna regress.
[Chorus]
If you love her but she treats you like one of her objects, Don't matter. Have sex. If she tell you that you good, but you ain't been her best, Dayum! Don't matter. Have sex. If yo beta-ass come runnin cos she calls and she becks, Don't matter. Have sex. If she got a reverse-harem and you one of her subjects, Don't matter. Have sex. [Refrain] Don't matter. Have sex. (x4)
[Outro]
That's it. We're through. Don't stress. Get out there. Jus do yo best... If you an old muthafucka but she cashin all yo checks, Don't matter. Have sex. If her former mans was killed and she a suspect, Don't matter. Have sex. If she tryna lock it down, but you ain't wanna genuflect, Don't matter. Have sex. If she fuck you in yo coffin to pay her last respects, Don't matter. Have sex. [Catchy Hook] Don't matter. Have sex. (x4) Keep it wet my brothas. Don't matter. Have sex. Lil Uggy droppin the mic... Don't matter. Have sex. G’night. Don't matter. Have sex. Don't matter. Have sex.
