Miami Heat and Nordic Ghosts

[Verse 1] Sixty-eight percent of the ball, you’re just guests at our show, Chasing shadows in the Miami heat with nowhere to go. You brought a supposed giant, a Viking with golden hair, But for one hundred and twenty minutes, Erling wasn't even there. A ghost in the Florida humidity, wandering around the grass, Watching Jude and the lads give a masterclass in every pass. You thought you were raiding the coast, thought you were elite, But you’re just eleven cardio kings suffering in the heat. [Chorus] Ninety-two! Ninety-three! Jude is the King of the beach, The trophy you wanted is now well out of reach! Zero shots, zero goals, Erling’s tucked up in his seat, While the boys in the white shirts make you bow at their feet. Ninety-two! Ninety-three! The collapse was complete, Pack your bags for the fjords, you’ve been knocked off the street! [Verse 2] You celebrated a second goal, you thought you’d won the day, Until VAR showed your big man pushing everyone out the way. No discipline, no composure, just fouls and a heavy touch, Asking Erling to carry the weight was clearly asking too much. Then came the whistle for extra time and what did we see? Your superstar subbed himself off, desperate to flee. Zero shots on target—the stat that defines your trip, Watching from the bench as your entire summer starts to slip. [Bridge] Sixty-eight percent possession, you never saw the ball, One hundred and twenty minutes watching your ego fall. Jude took your pride in sixty seconds of time, Leaving Norway’s reputation covered in Miami grime. [Outro] Subbed off when it mattered, a spectator in the sun, Zero goals for the Cyborg, the English job is done. Enjoy the flight home, Erling, hope the seat has extra room, Because Jude Bellingham just sealed your Nordic doom.