City Blues

[Intro] [Verse 1] Yo, sky-blue pretenders, think you’re kings of the game? Spend them oil billions, but you still taste the shame. Trophies bought, not earned—your legacy’s thin, Champions League nights? Yeah, you’re *always* givin’ in. Haaland’s cold, but he’s ghost when it counts, Pep’s bald head sweatin’—see the pressure mount. You call it “project,” we call it a flop, History’s watchin’, and your reign’s ’bout to drop. [Chorus] City’s got money, but they ain’t got soul, Empty seats echo when the red flags roll. You’ll never be United, no glory, no pride, Burn the receipts—your dreams *still* denied. [Verse 2] Foden’s your future? Kid’s stuck in your shadow, KDB’s magic? Just a flicker, no halo. Plastic fans cheer for a plastic crown, Real clubs rise—you just gettin’ knocked down. Etihad’s quiet, like a library at night, No fire, no passion—just corporate spite. You stole our stars, but you can’t steal our heart, Manchesters’s *red*—you’re the frauds from the start. [Bridge] Talk ’bout “noisy neighbors”—you’re all bark, no f***t, Your “quadruple” crumbles in the cold English night. We sing for the Busby Boys, the Munich air, You’re just a billboard—no one’s *really* there. [Outro]