Be4 Da Headline

0:49

Would they recognize my brilliance if I wasnt in a casket

Would they magnify my presence or just view me as a has-been

Casualty of apathy, they only grant you empathy when tragedys the catalyst

Grabbing at the fragments of a life they never valued 'til its ashes, its backwards

Manufactured passion after fatalities happen, extracting reactions

Packaging anguish for the masses to caption, distraction from action

They fashion compassion like a limited edition, a trend in remission

The second that the sentiment diminishes, theyre finished with giving a fuck about the mission

Conditional conviction got us living in friction between the real and the rendered

They remember your existence when youre missing from existence, what a sentence

Witnesses to wickedness but only when its televised and monetized

Recognize the pattern in the scattering of flowers by the cowards

Who empowered by the hour that your death became a topic they could follow and devour

They dont see you 'til youre gone, dont believe you 'til youre mourned

Dont receive you 'til youre torn from the living, now they listen

Now theyre with it, now theyre giving what they shouldve when you breathing

Now theyre screaming what they shouldve when you speaking, aint that twisted

Algorithmic altruism got 'em fishing for engagement

Clicking through the images of violence for some validation

Vicious with the savior complex, claiming that they making changes

But the statements that theyre stating are just basic regurgitation

Replacing genuine frustration with a hasty simulation

of the pain that people facing, they be chasing documentation

Not to aid in transformation but to trade it for some placement

on a feed that breeds complacency, adjacent to vacation photos, makeshift halos

They dont want to fix the danger, just to filter it with angels

Stranger still the way they angle every quote to make it painless

Making famous off the nameless, taking anguish, rearranging it to fit their feed aesthetic

Pathetic how they fetishize the death of all our brethren

Weaponize the heaven-sent who met their end at the hands of the oppressors methods

Then forget them when the next trend enters, splendid, aint it

They dont see you 'til youre gone, dont believe you 'til youre mourned

Dont receive you 'til youre torn from the living, now they listen

Now theyre with it, now theyre giving what they shouldve when you breathing

Now theyre screaming what they shouldve when you speaking, aint that twisted

Selective in their empathy, intensity depends on the publicity

The metrics and the density of shares that generate publicity

Suddenly theyre studying the struggles of the community

But truthfully theyre using grief to curate their identity

Pretending that theyre heavenly, mentally theyre flexing with the virtue

They rehearse the perfect words to make it personal but never let it hurt through

Surface-level servants of a cause that they perverted into currency

Urgency is temporary, scary how theyre barely even there emotionally

Tokenizing tragedy, casually theyre grabbing at the imagery

Mastering the mimicry of sincerity, but factually theyre living in periphery

Filtering the misery through lenses that diminish the severity

Delivering the eulogy then pivoting to previous frivolity

Dividing up the history from present-day reality

A strategy of apathy disguised as empathy, a fallacy

Validating vanity by standing with the casualties

Then abandoning the cause when the applause fades gradually[

Would you know my name if I survived another morning

Would you hold the same energy or switch without a warning

Would you show the same intensity if death wasnt the story

or does the glory only come when life is gone and mournings pouring

Tell me what you're really for when hashtags arent trending anymore

When the cameras close the door and the martyrs you ignore

Are the ones who still endure, the ones you swore you'd ride for

But the cycle stays the same, the pain remains, and nothing changes in the core