Tally

Giriboy builds "Tally" on a foundation of hazy, sample-flipped jazz — a lazy piano loop that feels lifted from a late-night record store session, draped over a kick pattern with just enough thump to anchor it without demanding attention. The tempo is unhurried, almost conspiratorially slow, like someone thinking out loud. His voice sits low in the mix, conversational and slightly blurred at the edges, delivered with the casualness of someone keeping score in their head rather than making a grand confession. The song functions as a kind of internal ledger — cataloguing grievances, pleasures, and contradictions in a relationship without arriving at any clean verdict. There's wry humor embedded in the delivery; he's too self-aware to be purely bitter. Giriboy occupies a particular lane in Korean hip-hop where the emotional intelligence of indie songwriting meets the vernacular of street rap, and this track sits squarely in that crossover. It's the kind of song you listen to alone at 1 a.m. while staring at your phone, not ready to send the message you've already typed. The lo-fi warmth makes the emotional ambiguity feel comfortable rather than distressing — like sitting with something unresolved and deciding, for tonight at least, that's fine.