TITLE: PARTY CRASH PROTOCOL — HYPER-RHYME EDITION VERSE 1 Shadow-step soldiers with a cold-blooded motive, Motor in the Mustang monolithic and corrosive. Overloaded voltage in the bones when we roam, Every zone gets folded like a poem in a tome. Whispers of a rager on the ridge with the rich, If the gate got a glitch, we’ll engrave it with a switch. Stitch another scheme into the scene when we vanish, Turn a banquet into panic with a manic wave of damage. HOOK We lookin’ for a party just to crash it, smash it, Pattern-packed bars in a black‑lit casket. If the vibe too mild, we slash it, trash it, We don’t join scenes — we surpass and outclass it. VERSE 2 Ghost‑mode glide with a vibe so venomous, Synapse-splitting syntax, wicked and relentless. Every sentence bends with a pendulum precision, Rhythm like a prism when we cut into the vision. Kick in the door with a torque so torturous, Porch lights warp when the force gets thunderous. If the crowd too calm, we distort their rapport— Turn a lukewarm floor to a war of uproar. BRIDGE Bassquake break in a quake-line pattern, Shatter every ladder in the brainwave cavern. We don’t need invites, we ignite fractures— Volume plus violence equals ritual rapture. HOOK (REPEAT) We lookin’ for a party just to crash it, smash it, Pattern-packed bars in a black‑lit casket. If the vibe too mild, we slash it, trash it, We don’t join scenes — we surpass and outclass it.
