[Production]
140/70 trap tempo (140 BPM / half-time 70), heavy 808, crisp hats, turbo spool FX, door-slam hits, distant crowd ad-libs.
[Intro]
Midnight on Mercer, Phantom grille glowin' (vroom, ah)
Coach doors up — we stepping like we ownin' (yeah, skrrt)
Turbo spool, heartbeat matchin' the low end (uh)
This is more than speed — it's what we defend (check it)
[Verse 1]
Headlights cut through fog on Southside Bayswater lane,
Nicknames on the curb, every block knows my name.
Carbon fiber dreams, chrome that cuts like a blade,
Rolls around my wrist, but respect is what I trade.
Phantom grille like a jawline, steady, cold steel,
Coach doors whisper secrets when the night goes real.
Turbo spool whispers prophecy, I listen to the roar,
From Broadway to Mercer, I keep runnin' for more.
Clock reads twelve-thirty, city sleeps but we awake,
One shot at the crown, no room for a mistake.
Mirror full of rivals, reflections tryna chase,
But I drive for legacy — not just another race.
[Pre-Chorus]
Pulse syncs with the turbo, pressure's in my chest,
No reckless fatal flex; we gamble for respect.
Tires bite the asphalt, traction in my plan,
Win the block's salute, keep the keys in my hand.
[Chorus]
Rolls race — check my pace (x2)
[Verse 2]
Coach doors close like curtains on a midnight play,
Phantom silhouette glides, we cut through the fray.
Grille gleam like a lighthouse, lane change poetry,
I count lanes like verses, rhythm in velocity.
Name on every stoop, I carry neighborhood weight,
Lose and it's whispers; win and they elevate.
No talk of danger glamour, I measure risk with math,
Respect's the currency — I stake it on my path.
Double-time on the straight, slow on the turns,
Every shift a decision, every burnout earns.
From Mercer to Fifth, the streets keep the score,
I drive for tomorrow, not just for folklore.
[Pre-Chorus 2]
Hats tick like metronomes, 808 breathe under skin,
Ad-libs in the backseat — pressure builds, then begin.
Eyes on the finish, hands locked on the wheel,
This ain’t a suicide song — it's ambition made real.
[Chorus]
Rolls race — check my pace (x3)
[Rap-Break / Bridge]
(Flow switch — double-time bars)
Check the math: Phantom torque, torque equals torque,
Phantom posture, posture perfect like a monarch.
Internal rhymes line up, double clutch the metaphor,
I pivot past the panic, profit off the roar.
Name engraved in chrome, not just in whispers on the block,
I stack moments like milestones — steady stock.
Skrrt, turbo spools — soundscape paintin' the night,
808 heartbeat, hats tickin' tight.
No reckless glam, we respect the laws we bend,
Win the lane, keep the fame, live to race again.
[Breakdown — Production Cue]
(808 drops out — turbo spool + distant crowd chants — then hit back)
Door slam — 1, 2 — crowd: "Rolls Race!" (ah)
[Bridge — Emotional Lift]
Lights blur into memories, streets keep the lore,
Every race a chapter, every corner asks for more.
I came up from curbside prayers and late-night plans,
Now the Phantom rides like,
