In "Zendo," Reble turns quiet resentment into open contempt, mocking rivals who want the rewards without the risk. The contrast between the lion’s feast and diet food frames success as earned hunger against timid imitation, while the repeated image of selling souls ties betrayal to industry greed. The anger shifts from personal insults to a colder truth: loyalty and art collapse when money becomes the only melody. What remains is a warning that survival means refusing to beg for scraps or trade integrity for a title.
Zendo Lyrics by Reble
I don’t flex I’m success
I don’t flex I’m success
I don’t flex I’m success
If it left see i-
I wanna riot the quiet you
I wanna fight and inspire you
Let my defiance conspire you
Cuz kindness ain’t been one to fuck with you
Look at you
Look at you
Look at you
Bitch you a mouse take a peak at you
You want a bite of the lion’s food?
Look at you
Look at you
Look at you
My piece of cake, you on diet food
Eyes wide awake in a quiet room
Famous and fake and a liar too
Look at you
Look at you
Look at you
Bitch who you crying and lying to?
All of them piggies are quietful
High on the hog and maniacal
They don’t like you, you ain’t viable
Fades on the hues, you ain’t vital
Some people die with no titles
Most of them tied to a trial list
I can wipe out your entire list
Fans and their idol symbiosis
Can’t tell a man from the aisle of biases
Bitch I came back with the coup
But I ain’t backing the coot
She think she better than who?
I put that bitch in a tomb
Your bitch a B O B O B O B O B O B O P
Your bitch a B O B O B O B O P
Your bitch a BOB
Your bitch a thot
She ain’t got nothing to do with her thoughts
Your bitch a
Ok Ok Ok Ok
They would never get it, went ahead of their conscience
They misinterpreted, didn’t take the precautions
To Shillong city baby, I’m what Dre is to Compton
I can snap a rapper, put a bitch in a coffin
Cut throat like bitch I was coughing
I’m not choking bitch I was smoking
And I ain’t broken just got a heart frozen
Hidden like trojan pry a bitch open
That’s how the industry goes
Rats they just stick to their holes
Your bitch a industry hoe
She selling, she selling, she selling her soul
That’s how the industry goes
Rats they just stick to their holes
Your bitch an industry hoe
She selling, she selling, she selling her soul
Ok
Ok
Ok
She selling, she selling, she selling her soul
Ok
Ok
Ok
They selling, they selling, they selling, they selling their souls
Your bitch a hoe for the industry
She had enough of the melody
She took a puff of epiphany
Money’s the only true symphony
Your bitch a whore for the industry
She had enough of the melody
She took a puff of epiphany
Money’s the only true symphony