[Intro – spoken] Oi, it's me again, solo in the glow of the fluorescent strip Breakaway Squad's asleep, but I'm wide awake losing my grip Tires staring back like they know I'm about to fuck this up Which compound, which tread, which diameter—my head's about to erupt [Verse one] Picked the super softs first, thought grip would be king tonight Laid 'em on the track, first corner—pure glue, felt alright But three laps in, they're melting like butter on a hot pan Wearing down to slicks in minutes, car's sliding like a drunk man Tried the mediums next, balanced, they said on the forum thread Decent grip, decent life—nah, bruv, they're already dead Bouncing off the jumps, no bite in the hairpins at all Feels like driving on marbles, about to bin it into the wall [Chorus – haiku style] Tires whisper lies Grip fades fast under pressure Wrong choice haunts the run [Verse two] Swapped to the hards, proper durable, thought I'd last the race But zero traction, car's drifting wide in every damn place Straights are fine, top speed good, but corners? Laughable shit I'm begging for bite while the mini's doing its own skit Then the pinned ones—spikes for carpet, wrong surface, what a clown Track's smooth concrete, spikes screaming, tearing the foam down Rubber chunks flying, motor whining, setup's in ruins now I'm the tire whisperer who can't hear a bloody sound [Reply in Tagalog – self-roast, savage mirror talk] Tangina mo, pare, bakit ba lagi kang mali sa gulong? Super soft ka pa, parang utak mo—mabilis maubos, walang tatagal! Mediums mo basura, parang pag-ibig mo—puro pangako, walang kwenta Hards naman, walang kapit, parang tiyan mo sa gutom, laging walang laman! Pinned tires sa concrete? Grabe, ikaw talaga ang hari ng katangahan Tire choice mo parang desisyon mo sa buhay—laging talo, pare, sige na! [Verse three] Back to the workbench, sweating, comparing compounds like a nerd Blue dots, pink dots, green stars—my brain's about to burst One says "all-rounder," another screams "carpet only, fool" I slap on the "experts' pick," pray it doesn't make me look cruel First straight—decent pull, corner entry—oh shit, understeer city Oversteer on exit, fishtailing wild, this ain't pretty Tires shedding like a bad breakup, foam barriers eating my pride I'm cursing every manufacturer, every forum post I eyed [Reply in Tagalog – deeper burn] Bro, ano ba 'yan, parang laging ikaw ang talo sa tire roulette Gulong mo parang love life mo—laging mali ang fit, laging regret! Soft ka sa simula, tapos nauubos agad, walang stamina Hard ka sa huli, pero walang kwentang kapit, puro drama Breakaway Squad? Ikaw lang ang break—break sa mukha mo sa track Tama na, pare, magpalit ka na ng libangan, wag na mag-Tamiya attack! [Final Chorus – haiku style] Rubber meets its fate Wrong tires curse the solo soul Battle never ends
