𝑁𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑂𝑤𝑒𝑑

[Chorus, melodic hook, confident] Dark horse in the mud, pretty face, dirty race, They bet on the favorite, I was running my own pace. They was busy counting odds, I was holding all the reins, When the dust settle down, wrong horse in first place. [Verse 1, laid-back sassy rap, sharp delivery] Tote board flashing up the odds, looking for the guarantee, Old money looking down, only back the pedigree. Pushed the bankroll to the glass — "Put it all on the black," Staking every dollar down before I step onto the track. [fast aggressive rap, biting delivery] Bell rings, crowd roaring, golden boy is taking bait, Got the shiny silks and blinkers, burning pace into the straight. Second turn he's blowing hard, panicking and pulling leather, Sinking in the deep mud, folding to the bitter weather. [Break, music stops, dry vocal, no beat] (Hold still.) Black ten on the outside, no blinkers, cutting closer, Taking every single spot the owners handed to the poser. Grandstand holding breath, the panic getting higher, No whip — just math, I'm coasting to the wire. [Chorus, melodic hook, confident] Dark horse in the mud, pretty face, dirty race, They bet on the favorite, I was running my own pace. They was busy counting odds, I was holding all the reins, When the dust settle down, wrong horse in first place. [Verse 2, aggressive rap, arrogant delivery] Photo finish on the board, they disputing what they saw, Filing every fake objection — mud don't care about the law. Carried double in the saddle, ran the muddy track alone, Blanket went to second place — they don't crown what they can't own. [hard-hitting, biting delivery] Floor is littered with the slips — every lock turned fiction, Old money in the box tearing tickets to admission. Golden boy in the dirt, coat heavy with the foam, Thought they had the race rigged, now they taking nothing home. [Break, music stops, dry vocal, cold] (Hold still.) Walked up to the window, laid the ticket on the tray, Silent in the lobby when the numbers flipped to pay. Pocketed the payout, folded flat inside the coat, Walking out the front doors — heavy pockets, nothing owed. [Bridge, no drums, soul sample only, spoken-word] They was buying names, I was pricing doubt, Every favorite here getting faded out. No luck in the mud, just a line misread, They bet on a story — I bet what it said. [Final Chorus, maximum energy, layered vocals, ad-libs] Dark horse in the mud, pretty face, dirty race, They bet on the favorite, I was running my own pace. They was busy counting odds, I was holding all the reins, When the dust settle down, wrong horse in first place. Dark horse in the mud, pretty face, dirty race, They bet on the favorite, I was running my own pace. They was busy counting odds, I was holding all the reins, When the dust settle down, wrong horse in first place. [Outro] [End]