[Intro] (spoken) [Deep Bariton Raspy Male Voice] Got a bad fuckin’ feelin’ about this shit...—don’t you miss it. I’m not askin’—I’m warnin’… watch me. Yeah—this ain’t “maybe,” this the moment you should fear, ’Cause I’m finna make the road talk in blood and sound, my dear. [Verse 1] (rap, dens) Cold wind—bitin’ me—Thunder in my teeth, I can hear it when it grinds, Fire in my chest—deeper than a mortal sin, like a furnace with a timeline. I hit the throttle—no “maybe,” I’m gone—split the lane like a villain in chrome, No pity, no peace—your “clean” little world? It’s lookin’ ugly in real time, home. V-Twin roar—violent, like a switchblade pop—vicious loud explosion, Cut through the crowd with that evil motion—rubber and rage got a devotion. Chrome flash—brake sparks—tires askin’ “why?” then they die for the speed, Laughin’ at your fashion—tryin’ to look rich while you bleed for the feed. Asphalt spit—tire cry—eyes wide, livin’ too fast to be sane, I got no master, no plan, no “please”—just a pissed-off little flame. No leash, no collar—no prayin’ for pay—no chain on my chain, no “buy me,” Look me in the eyes—try to test me—try me—bet you can’t survive the tryin’, bitch. I choose the line, choose the sign—every damn inch is mine, I’m marked, Crossin’ double lines with my middle finger up like I’m past where your rules start. Breakin’ every red design—red lights, dead nights, I don’t comply, Live raw, live real—heavy pedal—cold steel—feel it in the spine when I drive. [Pre-Chorus] (rap, dens) Key in the ignition—heavy iron blast—hear it rattle like a war drum, Step on the gas—smashin’ through your past—left behind like a dead-ends wrong one. All them plastic models—hollow full of lies—wide mouths with dead-eyed focus, Talk “truth” but it’s empty—souls on pause—like you learned it from a broken doctrine. Ridin’ way faster while you run into disaster—’cause you move like you’re programmed, Fake little lapdog searchin’ for a master—yeah, you’re trained, I’m the unchained. I’d rather burn rubber—blow the engine—drop the brake and vanish, Than live one second inside your fuckin’ “big mistake” with that smile in the ashes. [Chorus / Hook] (rap dens, repetabil) Grip the throttle—hit the asphalt—let the highway burn the stain, Freedom in my chest—pure fire in my vein—ain’t tame, don’t tame. Keep your quiet little cage—keep your fuckin’ plastic gold, ’Cause a soul on a Harley can’t be bought, can’t be sold, can’t be froze. Yeah, a mind on the run—good luck controlin’ that—can’t. Try to cage that thought—watch it spark—then you’re fucked, period, that’s that. [Verse 2] (rap dens) Look at the clock—tick-tock—what a shock—locked in a block where the weak get sorted, Whole block of sheep in a line like “step, pay, smile”—like the fine is a blessing offered. Steppin’ in line—payin’ the fine—drinkin’ cheap wine, call it divine, While your spine gettin’ borrowed—swapped out—left you numb from the inside, behind. Buy a little lie—try, cry, die—swallow the digital junk off the sky, It’s a trap—big nap—stupid quiet—lapdog act while the puppet laughs “bye.” Screen lights flashin’—brain crashin’—soul on sale for a discount, No one askin’ “is this real?” just recyclin’ emptiness automatic—wow. Talk a big game—feel zero shame—same damn script every time, Everyone the same lame flame-chasin’—blind to the truth in the grime. I see sleepwalkers rowin’ in deep water, prayin’ for peace they can’t keep, Like “maybe someday” bullshit—never holdin’ steady, always slipin’ to sleep. I break the mold—snap the cage—laugh at your stage, I’m done with the setup, Write my own fuckin’ history page—ink so sharp it cuts through the markup. [Chorus / Hook] (repeat, dens) Grip the throttle—hit the asphalt—let the highway burn the stain, Freedom in my chest—pure fire in my vein—ain’t tame, don’t tame. Keep your quiet little cage—keep your fuckin’ plastic gold, ’Cause a soul on a Harley can’t be bought, can’t be sold, can’t be froze. Yeah, a mind on the run—good luck controlin’ that—can’t. Try to cage that thought—watch it spark—then you’re fucked, period, that’s that. [Bridge] (rap sarcastic, dens, nu “cântat”) Look at you—so neat, so numb, perfectly predict-able, like a rehearsed glitch, Days numbered in a sweet little row like good little children—no risk, no switch. (Sarcastic laugh) How cute—fuck ’em all, I’m serious, I don’t play fair. Twist the grip—then vanish—poof—gone like the lies in your prayer. [Outro] (spoken-leaning rap) Yeah… keep runnin’ your mouths while I run the road, A mind on the run—unstoppable—no off-switch, no chokehold. Try to box this—can’t. I’m gone—road-roamin’ with a trigger-word soul.
