(Intro — relaxed, spoken, west coast vibe)

Yeah... Uh...

Look... This that marathon shit, you feel me?

They want it fast, we take it slow. Real slow.

All money in... no money out, you dig?

Yeah... check it out.

(Verse 1 — laid-back, storytelling flow)

This ain't no TikTok sprint, this that Slow-Mo push, I'm in the cut with the set, loc, I know the look.

You talkin' 'bout a quick flip, I'm talkin' 'bout a whole thang,

They out here cappin' for the 'Gram, I'm off the leash where the dope slang.

I turned a deuce into a quarter, that's just the warm-up, no flex,

The feds watchin' through the drone, so we move the packs through the text.

You ain't built for this stress, you ain't seen the bottom from the top bunk,

I'm where the robbers meet the scholars, and the yoppers sound like a car trunk.

She off that white girl, nose drippin', lookin' like she seen a poltergeist,

I'm countin' dead prez in the dark, just to see if the paper's sliced.

It's a cold game, y'heard me? Keep your jewels tucked and your circle tighter,

Before you catch a hot one from a hater who was never a rider.