[Intro] Click. Count. Breathe. Go. [Verse 1] Metronome ticking, I live in the gap. syllables clipped when I lean on the snare, riding the rhythm then bending it back, splitting the pattern and stitching it there. No wasted motion, precision and pressure. threading the consonants under the measure, breaking the sentence then building it better, locking the cadence together forever. [Hook] Dead before you drop, dead before the sound, hear the whole room turning while the beat goes underground. Dead before you drop, count it when it locks, when the silence takes the room, You were dead before you dropped. [Verse 2] [Delivery: continuous, minimal breath gaps] Back with a battery, rapidly rattling patterns, packing the cadence and cracking the language, breath in the pocket then lock it and rocket it. straight through the frame while I fracture the angles. Minimal drums but the tongue does percussion. sub in the floor like controlled compression, cut every vowel till consonants function. Double the doubles and run the construction. Velocity rising, I’m riding the click. switching the placement and tightening quick, triplets to sixteenths then back in a flick, Never behind it, I’m driving the kick. [Rhythmic build-up] [Verse 3] Clinical rhythm and syllable spinning – I’m drilling the middle and testing the limit. intricate intervals fitted in miniature, rhythm on rhythm with nothing diminished, rapid ricochet, pivot and hit it, then split every residual phrase when I finish. physical breath control, metrical pressure, internal rhymes locked together and rigid. Duplicate, triplicate, shift the position, the kick and the diction are locked in collision. clipping the ending and gripping the rhythm, then ripping another subdivision to ribbons, no stumble, no mumble, no blur in articulation, pace escalating through every rotation. breath economical, jaw fully mechanical, consonants landing with clean separation. [Distant war cry] りゅうよ、やみをさけ！ [Hook] Dead before you drop, dead before the sound, something coils above us while the bassline shakes the ground. Dead before you drop, hear the rhythm lock. you can run until it stops. You were dead before you dropped. [Shouted] やいばよ、よるをたて！ [Verse 4] Rapidly rattling analytical patterns, mechanically stacking the cadence, intricate internal repetitions ricochet while I’m changing the placement. minimum hesitation, immediate pivoting, syllable splitting and shifting, every consecutive measure accelerating while articulation stays efficient. Triplicate rhythm and duplicate diction, I’m switching position in fractions. packing a paragraph into a pocket and snapping it back into tight contractions, metrical pressure is building and building; the breathing is brief and economical. Consonant clusters are clicking like pistons, precise and relentlessly mathematical. Velocity, symmetry, intricate rhythm and rapidly multiplying syllable sequences, pivoting instantly, clipping the endings and fitting another internal between them, technical patterns are stacking on patterns and attacking the gaps in percussion. minimal breathing and maximum diction, the voice itself becoming percussion. Synchronization, subdivision, instantaneous switches are tightening timing. sixteenth to triplet to thirty-second flickers, the tongue and the snare interlocking, never a vowel allowed to hang when another is ready to enter the sequence, fifteen every second, relentless and level, maintaining intelligible cadence. [2-measure dead stop] [Solo Vocal] もう…… おわりだ。 [Zenith intensity] [Final Hook] DEAD BEFORE YOU DROP! Before the kick, before the clock! DEAD BEFORE YOU DROP! Before the whole damn rhythm stops! No second guess. No losing track. No slowing down. No turning back. DEAD BEFORE YOU DROP! Every syllable hits the spot! DEAD BEFORE YOU DROP! Push the tempo till it knots! Dead before— dead before— dead before you— DROP! [Zeroing resolution]
