Mafia Markets

[Intro | spoken gravelly boss voice over pulsing dark synths | low menace building] Dirtbags... Markets of New Eden. Capsuleers chase margins thinkin' they master the flow. But the Dirtbag Mafia fixes prices, manipulates the boards, corners supply. We pull the strings while they play hero traders. Ha. Honest brokers robbin' their own kind. [Verse 1 | dark techno rap flow | syncopated low cadence | nine to ten syllables per line] Markets pulse in Jita shadows of the trade Dirtbag Mafia owns the boards with iron blade Capsuleers post orders think they ride the wave We buy out the stock then spike the price they crave Fix the margins silent corner every supply Restrict the flow and watch the desperate buy BPOs copied pirate blueprints flood the line They manufacture profits in our grand design Planetary outputs blueprints fuel the chain We manipulate the numbers keep 'em feelin' sane [Pre-Chorus | rising tension | building synth layers | half-time to accelerating flow] Evil jokes we cackle as they chase the golden fix Price manipulation heroes in the market mix Grave robbin' margins from the capsuleer dead Monuments of data cracked inside their head [Chorus | Haiku structure | anthemic stacked echoes | belted with reverb | five seven five syllables] Dirtbag markets rule Capsuleers fix our prices Think they trade with skill [Verse 2 | intensifying dark techno drive | double-time push | nine to ten syllables per line] Cradle of War campaigns boost demand we stoke Navy hulls and minerals under our yoke Huffin' gas precursors boosters sold at peak Mining rocks and relics profits that we seek Data hacks and relic runs feed the blueprint game We restrict the volume set the prices tame Capsuleers haul components never see the hand Dirtbag unions planets blueprints all command W H P D interferes with our perfect play Yet the capsuleers keep feedin' us each day [Bridge | slow atmospheric swell | breathy menacing delivery | tension peak] Behind the factions empires all aligned We run the price fixing shadows intertwined Grave robbin' jokes like pilfered bones in trade Monument heists leavin' markets in the shade They believe their glory craftin' empires grand We laugh... we profit... shadows own the hand [Outro | fading distorted beats | echoing ad-libs | resolving menace] Dirtbag Mafia reigns... markets under thumb... Capsuleers dance our tune... thinkin' they have won... Manipulation flows... profits never cease...