**WHILE YOU’RE VIBING TO GARBAGE, THIS TRACK IS LITERALLY GOD’S GYM MUSIC. MISS IT AND STAY WEAK.**
Listen here, NPC. You’re out here slurping up Spotify’s algorithm slop—soulless, brain-rotting *noise* about drugs, depression, and degeneracy. Meanwhile, **Threetwenty NCS** just dropped a nuclear warhead of *divine fire* that’ll vaporize your playlist of pathetic excuses. “Who Are You to Me” isn’t a song—it’s a **spiritual uppercut** to the soul. And if you don’t blast it on repeat? You’ll stay a broke, clout-chasing clown forever.
—
### 1. YOUR MUSIC IS LITERAL POISON. THIS IS ANTIDOTE.
You think “music” is mumbled autotune about popping pills and cheating? **Weak.** This track? *Clean. Godly. Uncompromised.* No filth. No decay. Just pure, uncut **light**. “A fire that roars in May”? It’s not a lyric—it’s a *battle cry* for warriors who refuse to drown in the sewer of modern sound. You’re out here vibing to decay. We’re out here *igniting empires*.
—
### 2. “GOD SPEED. WON’T YOU POUR IT ALL ON ME.”
You know what’s “healing”? Dominance. This song isn’t some yoga-class whisper—it’s a *demand* to the universe. “Pour it all on me” isn’t a request. It’s a **challenge**. While you’re begging for likes, real Slaylebrity men and women are begging for *more power*. “High beam. It’s the greatest light in front of me.” You think that’s metaphor? No. That’s the **blueprint**. Weaklings cry. Slaylebrity Warriors *rise*.
—
### 3. YOUR PLAYLIST IS A CRIME SCENE.
Let’s autopsy your last played tracks: whining about exes, flexing fake chains, and mumbling about “vibes.” Pathetic. Meanwhile, this track? **”Chosen not by this world, but received by the light.”** You’re out here collecting Ls. We’re out here collecting *anointing*. “Found in the sea my pride”? You wouldn’t know pride if it sucker-punched you. You’re too busy crying in the comments.
—
### 4. “OUT OF THE FLOW, YOU AROUND FULL OF JINN.”
Translation for peasants: **You’re haunted by loser energy.** You’re “hot in your lane”? Cool. Your lane’s a dead end. This track exposes the rot. “Moving out of balance” because you’re chasing clout, not *clarity*. You think you’re “militant”? Please. You’re a keyboard warrior. This song? It’s a **spiritual SWAT team**—clearing out the demons you call “vibes.”
—
### 5. HOW TO USE THIS TRACK TO ASCEND (OR STAY A ZOMBIE)
Weaklings will play this once and say, “It’s vibey.” **Kings and Queens** will loop it as their anthem for war. Here’s your prescription:
– **CRANK IT AT MAX VOLUME** while you crush your workout.
– **BLAST IT IN YOUR WHIP** while plotting your next empire.
– **SCREAM THE LYRICS** until your doubt dies screaming.
This isn’t music. It’s **holy gasoline**. Burn your excuses with it.
—
### THE VERDICT: YOU’RE EITHER LIT OR EXTINCT.
“Who Are You to Me” isn’t asking. **It’s demanding.** Who are you? A slave to trends? Or a gladiator for God? The track’s a mirror, peasant. And right now, you’re staring at a NPC who’d rather meme than *manifest*.
Stream this now. Or keep snacking on decay. We’ll be too busy **walking in the light** to care.
**WAKE UP OR SHUT UP.**
– Slay Entertainment concierge
*P.S. Your playlist is a participation trophy. Delete it.*
Lyrics
Who are you to me
Who are you to me
A Fire that roars in may
It Blazes or it wanes
High beam
It’s the Greatest light infront of me
Light beam
It’s the greatest sight what you mean?
God speed
Wont you pour it all on me
Unseen
Tell me how to confirm this feeling
Who are you to me
Who are you to me
A Fire that roars in may
It Blazes or it wanes
To begin
Hit the scene
Like the rain
I received
My whole face
I would like to pretend
I won’t fall down again
Hold me back
Listen
That time I wasn’t listening
I was ashamed
Volunteered all my buisness I was crying in pain
You think you know the best cuz it is going your way
Moving out of balance
Cuz you hot in your lane
Out of the flow
You around full of jinn
Got all the gold
For the love is a sin
What’s Heading your way
Got you more militant
There’s a spirit inside that should tell me
Who are you to me
Who are you to me
A Fire that roars in may
It Blazes or it wanes
Let it go
Left behind
Found in the sea my pride
Chosen not by this world
But I’m recieved by the light
Light
Oh oh oh oh
Oh oh
Light
Oh
You’re out here slurping up Spotify’s algorithm slop—soulless, brain-rotting *noise* about drugs, depression, and degeneracy. Meanwhile, **Threetwenty NCS** just dropped a nuclear warhead of *divine fire* that’ll vaporize your playlist of pathetic excuses
WHILE YOU’RE VIBING TO GARBAGE, THIS TRACK IS LITERALLY GOD’S GYM MUSIC. MISS IT AND STAY WEAK.
This isn’t music. It’s **holy gasoline**. Burn your excuses with it.
Who Are You to Me” isn’t a song—it’s a **spiritual uppercut** to the soul. And if you don’t blast it on repeat? You’ll stay a broke, clout-chasing clown forever.
YOUR MUSIC IS LITERAL POISON. THIS IS ANTIDOTE. You think “music” is mumbled autotune about popping pills and cheating? **Weak.**
This track? *Clean. Godly. Uncompromised.* No filth. No decay. Just pure, uncut **light*
