“We’re going from BRAT summer to spoilt summer with this glitchy brat pop anthem,” Cheska said. “Perfect for the pre-party tantrum, fake crying in couture. It’s glitter, bass, and high-gloss confidence.” And that’s exactly how Give Me What I Want lands—already dressed, already late, already halfway through the fit. She lays it out in the chorus again and again—give me what I want, give me, give me what I want—until the hook becomes a demand with a delivery that stays sharp all the way through, each line twisted just enough to keep you off balance. This track knows exactly what it’s doing and exactly who it’s doing it for.
The first verse comes in with “Want a tantrum? / Give me a credit card” and the second I heard it; I smiled just a little bit. That line hits because it’s direct, and because it flips the whole power dynamic. She lays it out without hesitation. “But I would shake some ass for it” is the kind of line that only works when it’s said by someone who’s holding all the cards—and Cheska makes it clear she is. There’s something about the way she says it, like the party’s already going and he’s either funding it or being cut out. No negotiation. Just attitude and access.
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And then there’s the Mahrow angle. He’s not just the producer—he’s her boyfriend, so this whole thing plays with power even harder. You can hear how far the production pushes it. The distortion, crunch, and tension that builds in the silences between beats is like a stage he’s built for her, but she burns it down. This is chemistry on the edge of collapse—no compromise. That abrasive synth line, those metallic pulses, the way her vocals glitch and snarl over the top—this was never meant to sound clean. It’s maximalist and messy on purpose—controlled chaos, but only barely.
By the time she hits “Yes, I’m greedy / Don’t tell me to stop,” it’s clear what this track is: a celebration of want. Wanting too much. Saying too much and being too loud. It’s Veruca Salt with a vengeance—spoiled, styled, and holding his gaze while she takes what’s hers. She doesn’t apologize for any of it. She makes it sound hot. She makes it sound expensive. And she makes it sound fun. There’s nothing careful about the lyrics, and that’s exactly what gives them weight. “The A’s come easy when you got what I got” is self-aware, over it, and ready to turn the whole system into a fuckable accessory.
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Cheska Moore’s always had that edge. She broke out in 2020 with viral subversions of classic pop songs—ten million views before she even dropped Self-Loathing Narcissist, which racked up millions more. From Aphrodite to Turn Me On, she’s been leaning into dark pop textures with theatrical, femme-forward tension. But this one hits different. Give Me What I Want drops the seduction, skips the heartbreak, sidesteps the lust, and locks straight into control. It’s about how hot it is to say precisely what you want and make everyone else adjust. No soft-spoken confessions. No buried metaphors. Just glitter, volume, and a girl who already knows she’s the center of gravity.
You can hear touches of Billie Eilish’s moodcraft, Upsahl’s attitude, and a hint of early Ke$ha in the way she speak-sings and sneers her way through every line. If you’re into Ashnikko, SOPHIE, asteria—sure, you’ll find touchpoints here. But Cheska’s voice doesn’t sit next to anyone else’s. She’s in motion already, and nothing about it feels borrowed. Self-Loathing Narcissist gave us heartbreak and obsession. Give Me What I Want gives us the aftermath—harder, hotter, fully unbothered.
She doesn’t ask for space. She fills it, flips the mood, wrecks the mix, and leaves it all louder than she found it.
