Sabrina Constance

The polysyllabic scribblings of an indulgent, long-winded craftswoman; an elegy to primal, substantive literature.

“Beef Supreme”

(Verse 1)
Beef Supreme, king of the scene,
Lives in his mama’s garage, eats nothin’ but beans.
He’s got a brain made of concrete dust,
Thinks “hard work” is a liberal bust.

Can’t open his eyes, can’t move his face,
Still yells at strangers from his digital place.
Can’t spell a word but he’s got a hot take,
“U R da sheeple,” as he pounds on his steak.

(Chorus)
Beef Supreme, rollin’ on a rusted hog,
Hates the world from his digital fog.
Can’t lift weights but flexes online,
Fueled by rage and discount swine.
Beef! Beef! Beef Supreme!
Living large in a lazy dream!

(Verse 2)
Government check, in the mail again,
Calls the poor “leeches,” but he’s ten outta ten.
Wears a shirt that says “Don’t Tread on Me,”
While he treads on chips and daytime TV.

Watches InfoWars with a slack-jawed grin,
Swears those pills’ll grow a man within.
Says he’s alpha, top of the pack—
Crying to his mommy when the Wi-Fi cracks.

(Bridge – spoken, with distortion and feedback)
“Just wait, bro. I’m gonna open a gym.
Like… for the mind. Or crypto or something.
Wait till my podcast drops…”

(Breakdown – heavy riffs)
Scrollin’ at midnight, screen glowin’ bright,
Looking for love in the lowest byte.
“Hardcore patriot,” keyboard knight,
Lost the war in his own head fight.

(Chorus)
Beef Supreme, rollin’ on a rusted hog,
Hates the world from his digital fog.
Can’t lift weights but flexes online,
Fueled by rage and discount swine.
Beef! Beef! Beef Supreme!
Living large in a lazy dream!

(Outro)
No job, no clue, just a permanent scream,
Of broken pride and conspiracy cream.
He’s the legend of low esteem—
Give it up for Beef… BEEF SUPREME!

Any guesses who inspired this tune?