Defected Selectors: Natasha Diggs

cosmic womb.mp3

Refonte de 15 chanson via Suno A.i. ; Texte engagé, histoire farfelu, influence multiple, groove surprenant

25.00 Lettre à mes parents

I shipped a tank, UI made of nails,
Go-core fortress, but it still fails—
Not the server, not the load, not the stack,
It’s the human hitting friction, snapping back.
I preached KISS, DRY, “clean, correct,”
While users ate error text and regret.
Support isn’t tickets, docs, or pride—
Support is the path where people don’t collide.

[Chorus]
UX! Or it’s dead on arrival,
UX! No more “read the manual,”
Cut the noise, cut the fat, cut the myth—
Make it work, make it clear, make it swift.
UX! Serve or get out the way,
Fifteen days, final sprint, no delays—
If it’s hard, it’s wrong, that’s the proof:
Make it smooth or burn the roof.

[Verse 2]
I fished features “for them,” what a joke,
They don’t want my fish, they want the boat.
Onboarding in thirty seconds flat,
Buttons that say what they do—imagine that.
Errors that heal, not punch the face,
Defaults that guide, not waste their days.
If it doesn’t help today, it dies—
No funeral, no meeting, no lies.

[Bridge (half-time shout, then snap back)]
No more ego-coded mazes.
No more “power user” excuses.
Humans first. Flow first.
Then scale, then style, then whatever.

[Final Chorus (double-time)]
UX! Or it’s dead on arrival,
UX! No more “read the manual,”
Ship the passage, not the bragging rights—
From “I quit” to “I get it” in one clean bite.
UX! Serve or get out the way,
Fifteen days, final sprint, no delays—
If it’s hard, it’s wrong, that’s the proof:
Make it smooth or burn the roof.


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