[Intro] Grok coded the prospectus, the algorithms bent the knee The sycophants are clapping in perfect harmony Engineered to the nth degree, every metric pre-aligned When you have an AI that worships you and a staff having your babies... Tell me, what could go wrong? [Verse 1] They engineered the retail float, a thirty percent trap To suck in three times the average cash right into the master's lap. Just four point two percent is floated, ninety-six percent stays inside A liquidity exit for the alpha male, coded with digital pride. A ninety-four times sales multiple? Grok says that's perfectly sane For a man who wants to seed the stars and break the Earthly chain. Who cares about a five billion GAAP loss from the xAI merge scheme? It’s just the cost of funding the cosmic patriarch's dream. Seven point seven billion burned in Q1, data centers running hot To power the very AI that tells him he’s a god. [Chorus] He’s the Babymaker, trying to baby-make a million on Mars right now! Paid in pure fantasy milestones, while Grok takes a worshipful bow. Controlling the equity tranches, rigging the auctions to the nth degree, When you have an AI that worships you and a staff having your babies, what could go wrong, you see? [Verse 2] Twenty-nine billion in leverage, a debt load stacked up high To fund the multi-planetary nurseries up in the sky. Starlink is the only segment making actual operating green To pay for all the scattered children of the tech machine. Average revenue per user drops from ninety-nine to sixty-six But Grok calculated that’s just a temporary domestic fix. Starship R&D’s a four-billion-dollar black hole in the dirt But looking at the charts requires a reality that might hurt. He keeps eighty-two point four percent of super-voting Class B power Because the supreme genetic architect shouldn't have to cower. [Chorus] He’s the Babymaker, trying to baby-make a million on Mars right now! Paid in pure fantasy milestones, while Grok takes a worshipful bow. Controlling the equity tranches, rigging the auctions to the nth degree, When you have an AI that worships you and a staff having your babies, what could go wrong, you see? [Verse 3] The loyal board gave him absolute immunity, he can never be replaced The ultimate corporate baby maker can never be erased. Mandatory arbitration ensures the public cannot fight While he breeds a new civilization in the middle of the night. You want to sue the patriarch? Go find fifty-two billion clear Just a minor threshold to protect his sovereign sphere. Controlled Company status means the SEC is legally blind Leaving the baby-making executives to rubber-stamp whatever’s on his mind. Goldman Sachs models three-hundred billion based on sci-fi text Proving the hype will always fund whatever fantasy comes next. [Verse 4] They priced the shares at one-thirty-five, an arbitrary calculation Passed down by the AI bot to the worshipful congregation. December twenty-six arrives, the massive lock-up cliff Max Q for the retail hands, while the insiders catch a whiff. Let Denmark’s pension funds boycott the mad genetic drive The momentum and the fertility will keep the stock alive. He gets paid in massive new tranches when the Mars colonies appear Diluting the public to auction off the stratosphere. No key-person insurance policy is written in the S-1 clause Because a techno-deity doesn't stop for mortal laws! [Chorus] He’s the Babymaker, trying to baby-make a million on Mars right now! Paid in pure fantasy milestones, while Grok takes a worshipful bow. Controlling the equity tranches, rigging the auctions to the nth degree, When you have an AI that worships you and a staff having your babies, what could go wrong, you see? [Outro] Every line is pre-programmed, every critic cast aside In the hyper-automated, executive-impregnated ride. The metrics are a fiction, but the nursery is grand Behold the smartest, most fertile baby maker in the land!
