MSY Lyrics – $uicideboy$ | from “THY WILL BE DONE”

$uicideboy$ turned Christmas into a grey-area gift with THY WILL BE DONE, their surprise 10-track trap sermon dropping December 25 via G*59 Records, and “MSY” slices right through like a late-night voicemail from the edge—Ruby and $crim laying bare the vertigo of making it, only to question if the view’s worth the drop.

This one’s a two-verse gut-check, clocking in at just over two minutes with Budd Dwyer’s brooding production: dusty 808s that crawl like fog off the Mississippi, warped samples looping under their signature drawls—Ruby’s gravelly introspection clashing with $crim’s haunted croon. It’s horrorcore trap at its most stripped, no guest spots, just the duo’s alchemy of lo-fi menace and raw confession.

Thematically, it’s peak $B: eleven years of metaphor-masked pain bubbling up, from couch-rot despair to arena dread (“The higher I got, the more I really started to fear”). Ruby wrestles the loneliness of the climb, that stubborn heel-in-the-ground pride masking a vow to sprout through the shroud, while $crim drapes depression like seasonal wear, old scars weeping fresh tears amid family calls and angelic wails. It’s less rage, more reckoning—prayers disguised as bars, aiming for hurricane rain in a drought of doubt. Dropped with the album, it’s already spiking TikToks, fans etching “Who the fuck would I call?” into their own late scrolls.

THY WILL BE DONE feels like a deliberate pivot, that title nodding to surrender amid the storm—ten cuts of unrelenting trap that weave biblical echoes (opener “Leviticus”) with street parables like “2009 Reggie Bush” and “BLOODSWEAT.” Tracks like “Angel Grove,” “Old Addicts, New Habits,” and “Fuck Ups” promise the usual cocktail of frenzy and hypernormalisation, all under four minutes each for that bingeable bite. No grand concept spelled out, but it’s their most cohesive since Long Term Effects of Suffering—less scattershot chaos, more threaded hauntings on faith, fallout, and the grind that births gremlin gods. Recorded in NOLA haze, it’s got that eternal spin: lights dimming, worlds rounding eternally.

The boys—Scott Arceneaux Jr. and Aristos Petrou—are hitting decade-plus stride untethered, post-New World Depression’s chart storm and those arena sellouts that packed 20K souls into their sludge. House arrest scars and sobriety stumbles behind ’em, this drop’s their defiant exhale: evolving from SoundCloud savages to trap theologians, still slinging shadows that save lives in the dark. It’s $uicideboy$ reminding us the will to keep going? That’s the real smash.

Dive into the MSY lyrics below and unpack its raw narrative. Don’t miss other THY WILL BE DONE tracks for more of $uicideboy$’s haunted trap vibes.