[Verse 1]

Logan Paul, the king of the scene,

Selling colored water, calling it a dream.

KSI’s the muscle, you’re just the face,

But Prime tastes like regret with a hint of disgrace.

Blue Raspberry? More like Blue Disaster,

Hydrate the world? Bro, you’re no master.

Overpriced hype in a neon disguise,

Prime’s just Gatorade with extra lies.

[Chorus]

Logan, where’s my Prime pool?

Flavors so wild, they make me drool!

It’s liquid gold, or so you say,

But it’s overhyped juice at the end of the day.

[Verse 2]

Tropical Punch? Nah, it’s Tropical Bland,

And Lemon Lime tastes like it came from a can.

Your drink’s a meme, yeah, it’s all the rage,

But the flavor’s flat—like reading off a page.

“Siiii!” you scream in the WWE ring,

But Prime’s the champ of disappointing things.

I’d rather sip tap, or maybe some air,

Prime’s like a joke, but nobody cares.

[Chorus]

Logan, where’s my Prime pool?

Flavors so wild, they make me drool!

It’s liquid gold, or so you say,

But it’s overhyped juice at the end of the day.

[Bridge]

Neon bottles stacked on the shelves,

Selling us dreams while laughing yourselves.

The drink’s all show, it’s barely a sip,

Prime’s like your vlogs—empty and flipped.

[Outro]

So Logan, I’m here, still waiting, my guy,

For a Prime pool, or at least a reply.

Your drink’s a circus, a sugar-filled spoof,

Prime’s the flavor of marketing goofs.