[Intro] [Siren wail cuts to a distorted reload, drill-style bassline] Yeh? Yeh. Ramz—step. Bloodclaat sermon. [Verse 1] [Rattling 140BPM, snare skips] Pedal-stomp preacher, skengin’ through the 20 zones— “120?” Soft yute. Asphalt’s your coffin, not throne. Blindside boy racer, one eye on your arsehole insurance— You’re a greased pig squealin’ through the amber defiance. Crosswalk martyr’s got 18 etched in her teeth, Your ego’s a grenade—pin pulled, weak. Scooter blood on your alloys, crash is your communion— Pavement’s got a hunger, feeds on your delusion. [Pre-Chorus] (Sub-bass drops, eerie silence) “Million-pound stoner”—yutes laugh at your flex, Road’s a cold jury… verdict’s neck-next. [Chorus] [Half-time beat smash, demonic vocal cho] Rev. Pray. Crash. (Guilt’s got backseat riders), Grind. Lie. Flatline (Her cake’s still fire). You crown kings with RIPs in the tarmac scripture— She’s 18 in a urn, blud… speed’s a shit preacher. [Verse 2] [Rapid-fire spitting, gunshot ad-libs] Leather-clad clown, chick’s knuckles white-knuckle the will— She counts exits, 18th breath stuffed in the glovebox still. “Ramz made it?” Nah—you’re a council estate Icarus, Wax wings meltin’ on headlights, diet of hubris. Windshield’s a cracked mirror—spiders where her face sat, You speed-write wills in cursive… road don’t erase that. [Bridge] [Droning synth, nursery rhyme malice] Click. Click. Clicks— (Seatbelt’s a noose, blud. Clock ticks. She’s sick of it.) [Outro] [Beat cuts, raw acapella growl] Yeh, you’re hard—‘til the hearse parks where your Astra stood. Road don’t cry… but her 18’s stained in the blacktop blood.