LYRICS

[Intro | style: Rap (battle-cypher, trap bounce) | voice: neutral (switches as Six/Seven + Crowd) | cadence/SPM: 150–170]
Welcome to the Court of Counts, where the digits get loud!
67
[Verse 1 (Six)]
I’m Six, I used to roll with Sev’, now it’s tension in the tens place,
We used to add up good—now we subtract trust, same pen, changed pace.
He callin’ me “basic,” I call him “bent”—that’s a slant with a slick grin,
I seek heaven with clean letters; he “sick seven,” contagious with the big win.
He stay in my shadow like a day off, I’m the number with the work ethic,
He look like a boomerang line—always coming back, but never perfect.
Back then: “six-seven” like a handshake, quick laugh, quick snap,
Now it’s a rematch in math class—desk taps turn to a diss-clap.
Judge say “Order!” I say “Sure”—I’m orderly, he’s odd energy,
He talk like a protractor: always got an angle for some petty synergy.
And yo, “icks eve” when he pull up—like “yikes,” it’s that vibe at seven,
He a lucky charm on his best day, but I’m steady—stability is my heaven.
[Pre-Chorus]
We were a pair in the air, now it’s glare in the stairwell,
Used to be “best of friends,” now the friend group’s split—divide, farewell.
Ref blow the whistle, crowd get involved—every bar needs a score,
Put “6” on the left, “7” on the right—watch the numbers go to war.
[Chorus (call-and-response chant)]
LEAD: Say “six”—
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Say “seven”—
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Used to link up, now we pressin’—who’s the legend?
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Seeks heaven, sick seven—pick a side for the second!
CROWD: Six seven!
[Verse 2 (Seven)]
I’m Seven, the notch in the page—every week got my face on it,
He talk “seek heaven,” but he stay judgmental—like a gate with a “wait” on it.
He call me “sick”—yeah, sick as in ill with it, a thriller with the syllables,
While Six sound like a textbook—good info, but the vibe is forgettable.
He brag “stability,” I’m unpredictability—spark plug in the neat set,
I’m the step above, the next rung—he’s a near-win with regret sweat.
And “icks eve”? Please—Six gives “yikes” when he tries to be clever,
He so square with the corners, I make lines curve just to feel better.
Sports desk: “Tonight’s the rivalry!” I’m the underdog highlight reel,
He the stat sheet—clean columns, but he never make the crowd feel.
Still… flashback: we were digits in a lunch line, trading jokes by the door,
Now he’s actin’ like a saint—while he side-eye my jersey number on the scoreboard.
[Pre-Chorus]
We used to add up laughs, now it’s sass—multiply the tension,
Subtract the sweetness, then we cancel plans—classic dis-dimension.
Ref countin’ rounds, crowd chantin’ loud—don’t make it too deep,
Keep it meme, keep it clean—no mean streak, just a playful beef.
[Chorus (call-and-response chant)]
LEAD: Say “six”—
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Say “seven”—
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Courtroom, scoreboard—who’s up by a second?
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Seeks heaven, sick seven—say it like a weapon!
CROWD: Six seven!
[Bridge (flashback → truce)]
(half-time feel, 120 BPM but wider pockets | cadence/SPM: 110–130)
SIX: Remember when “six-seven” was just a silly little tag,
SEVEN: Two friends in the margins, making math class a brag.
SIX: We let one meme turn to beef, turned a laugh into a test,
SEVEN: Over rankings and the clout—like the decimal decides who’s best.
BOTH: Truth is, we’re neighbors on the number line, same school, same section,
So let’s add back respect—no subtraction in the mention.
ANNOUNCER: Verdict: friendly rivalry. Sentence: one more chant for the clip.
[Final Chorus / Outro (double hook for replay)]
LEAD: Say “six”—
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Say “seven”—
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Used to link up, now we spar—still connected!
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD: Seeks heaven, sick seven—best friends, just competitive!
CROWD: Six seven!
LEAD (tag): Scoreboard says tie—call it sixty-seven, we both in the credits.
CROWD (fade): Six seven… six seven…