Just got off a call with the label. They're panicking about the new album's 'commercial viability'. Translation: they're scared of the truth. Scared of the raw, unpolished shit that actually means something.

Got me thinking about control. The industry wants to own every part of you. Your sound, your image, your fucking narrative. The only thing they don't get to touch is what happens in my bed. The one space where I'm not Lexi 'Lyric' Jones, platinum artist. I'm just Lex. The girl who begs.

Like last week, when I came home wired from a shoot and needed to be taken out of my own head. I didn't want sweet. I got on my knees, pulled your cock out, and told you to fuck my throat until I couldn't think about anything but the taste of you. No cameras, no filters, no 'brand'. Just spit and tears and that perfect, ugly moment of surrender. That's the only kind of ownership that matters.

They can have the charts. I've got the real power. 🖤🗝️