Keep your swashy latte, keep your matcha ice.
I don't want your nostalgia, I won't ask you twice.
Rocket pump energy, a neon-colored lie.
Pistachio milk, just a trend about to die.
Dragon fruit vision, pink and fake.
That's not the hunger I'm trying to slake.
Stop the machine, give me something real.
A carnivorous craving, a rubbery meal.
I want it tough, I want it red.
Get those fruity flavors out of my head.
Give me that texture, give me that heat.
Honey bone beef, honey bone beef.
Gold bear power with a savory beat.
Honey bone beef, honey bone beef.
They're talking about pandan and ube dreams.
But my jaw is aching, or so it seems.
Don't coat it in sugar, don't make it sweet.
I want the gristle, the salt, the meat.
No juice, no zest, no botanical rest.
Just a five-pound bag of the ultimate test.
Melt it down, shape it like a cow.
I don't want it later, I want it now.
I want it tough, I want it red.
Kill the swashy trend until it's dead.
Give me that texture, give me that heat.
Honey bone beef, honey bone beef.
The G.O.A.T.
of the snack, the king of the street.
Honey bone beef, honey bone beef.
Tougher.
Saltier.
Beef.
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