Doja Cat - Boss Btch (from Birds Of Prey: The Album) -

“And you’ve got a lot of my leather upholstery on your pants,” Doja replied, her voice a silk-wrapped blade. “I’m not here for an apology. I’m here for the keys. And maybe the watch.”

As the first man lunged, she didn't just move; she choreographed. A spin that ended in a heel to the jaw; a dip that sent a tray of champagne glasses flying into the face of a second. She was a blur of high-fashion violence, every hit landing with the precision of a metronome.

The enforcer laughed, a wet, ugly sound. He signaled his men. They closed in—suits tight, knuckles cracked. Doja Cat - Boss Btch (from Birds of Prey: The Album)

The enforcer, a man built like a brick wall in a silk suit, looked up from his cards. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here, girlie.”

Doja sat at the velvet-drenched bar, her boots resting on a table that cost more than a mid-sized sedan. She wasn't here for the drinks. She was here because Roman Sionis’s lead enforcer had forgotten to say "please" when he’d tried to “requisition” her getaway car. “And you’ve got a lot of my leather

In three minutes, the room was a wreckage of broken mahogany and unconscious henchmen. Doja stood over the enforcer, who was now clutching his ribs on the Persian rug.

The neon lights of Gotham didn’t just glow; they bled into the puddles of the Diamond District. Inside ‘The Gilded Cage,’ the air smelled of expensive gin and impending property damage. And maybe the watch

She reached down, plucked the keys from his limp fingers, and slid his gold Rolex off his wrist.