Breeding Material

You call me "baby," like I’m made to please, Just a pretty face, a trophy to seize. But I’ve got a voice, I’ve got my own mind, Not just a body for you to unwind. You want me docile, soft, and sweet, But I ain’t here to kiss your feet. So take your whispers, take your lies, I’ll flip the script—now meet my eyes. I’m not your "breeding material," no, not anymore, I’ll slam the door, you’ll hit the floor. You want a toy? Well, here’s the deal, Now you’re my sextoy—how’s that feel? Too damn heavy, too damn vain, Next time, babe, don’t be so plain. You like to play like you run the show, Whiskey words and an ego glow. But tables turn, and now it’s me, Who laughs and leaves you on your knees. You thought I’d blush and play along, But I’m the fire, you’re just the wrong. So pack your charm, your empty praise, I’ll be the storm—you’ll be the daze. I’m not your "breeding material," no, not anymore, I’ll slam the door, you’ll hit the floor. You want a toy? Well, here’s the deal, Now you’re my sextoy—how’s that feel? Too damn heavy, too damn vain, Next time, babe, don’t be so plain. I’ll wear my power, sharp and bright, While you’re just here for one damn night. A fleeting game, a passing high, You’re disposable—wave goodbye. So say my name like it’s a prayer, But I’m the god who doesn’t care. "Breeding material"? That’s your lie. Now watch me leave you wondering why.