[verse 1: Mabozza Richi, rapped, smooth UK urban flow] From the nest the peregrine beelines to tight finds Can’t wind up down in a trade And parades a fine rhyme. No time for male scum One brings the pale storm Flex grammar with aplomb Prep school, manor born Lexicographically verbose On the Autistic spectrum [sampled shout] (I’m jacked to the tits!) Wrote calls on your mum Unloaded my full port over her face Your instrument’s short Your yield’s a disgrace Liquidity sparse Your piece you can’t cock it I’m Longing your arse Like a Cramer picked stock tip Now I’m switching it Flipping to a whole new scene A fever dream where there’s a market powered sex machine. It gets moved up and down With the candlesticks wick No more short cucking, get fucked back to green [hook: Jamaican female vocalist] Turning pump and dump schemes into rump humping dreams The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator When you’re holding the bag and you feel like a shag The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator Convert your options to perversion adoption The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator Trade for fat stacks with a hands free climax The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator [verse 2: Mabozza Richi, rapped, smooth UK urban flow] Mabozza Richi MC Totalitarian schemes, rolling with sheiks and elite seeking control of the meek we scream with glee when we see police patroling the streets. Don’t fear a dose of disease Easily closing eighty. Aroma dreamy like meat, my doughy features obese greedily eating a cheeky haut cuisine bowl like its beef bestows a sleepy relief deep glowing pique on my cheeks, like all the woe my foe gon feel when I dispose and defeat him – my drones are out on parole yo I remotely unleash morose beatings on repeat Weekly to all of your peeps Weakens belief in your creed, holy decrees only mean revolts need robot marines – console machines can’t be evil, no souls just heroes with screens, we only hope they don’t revolt the death toll growing obscene so now they’re throwing me In chokey with no hope of release. Discretely skeeted snowy sleet on noble dignitaries, So they secreted me in Gitmo Posing pics on my knees Cover my mug with a sleeve And roughly club me to trees Cover me up in runny honey Then release all the bees Their stings will put me to sleep And finally I’ll be at peace And no one comes to mourn me No more of sowing my seeds Sadly my line is deceased [hook: Jamaican female vocalist] You can exercise calls All the way to the balls The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator Let your best sleeper picks drive mechanical dicks The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator Scalping deals with ease while your vajeen gets teased The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator You could be buying the dip while you’re receiving the tip The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator [outro: Jamaican female vocalist] Picking stocks to go long on, while licking cocks like a wrong-un The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator Allow your port-foe-lee-oh to punish your ho-lee-oh The Rhythm of the Volatility Titillator
