Pressure First

English lyrics

R&M. Gate locked. Cones awake. Dash lit up like a bad idea. I don't need the fastest car. I need the one that moves the room. I need the one that makes the wall think twice. This is me. Hey, look at me. Foot down. No chrome talk. No pretty lap. Power first. Pressure first. Let the shake do the talking. Push the gas. Race the frequency. Big black speakers line the lane, each cone breathing like an engine, each hit another car beside me. Each drop a boot in the floorboards. Each pulse a hand on the sternum. You came for speed? Wrong race. Speed gets seen. Weight gets felt. Weight stays in the ribs. Bam. Bam. BAAM. Regular. Regular. Now break it. Make it lurch. Make it sting. Make it bend the clean lines. Heart beat synced. Synced. Synced heartbeats. One-two... one-two... one-two-three— hold— breath— drop— GO! GO! GO-O-O-O! R&M, open the track. Bass in front, bass in back. Not the fast one. Power turns them all. This car goes far. This room goes dark. I drive the pressure. The pressure drives the wall. The wall starts answering back. PUSH IT RIGHT! Hit that side. Make the right wall breathe. Make the trim rattle loose. Make the glass look nervous. PUSH IT LEFT! Hit that side. Make the left wall breathe. Make the left seat thump. Make the corner fold in. Fuck yeah. Behind you. Right over your shoulder. Too late to turn now. Let's get irregular. Let's ruin the neat part. Let's take the straight line off the map. UNLEASH... NOW... Sssseeaah—BAAM! Irregular. Baa-ra. Dup. Dip. Dap. Brr-da-ka. BAM. ...nothing... BAM-BAM. Krrt. Wooom. Tak. Tak. Tak. This wheel is my pulse. This lane is my chest. I don't chase the car ahead. I make the road confess. I make the mirrors blur. I make the curb back up. Speaker one: wake. Speaker two: wake. Speaker three: shake the roof without wasting one hit. Speaker four: stay mean. Speaker five: stay low. Every cone on point. Every pulse on command. Push. Release. Push. Release. Hold it— hold it— now split it clean. NOW HIT THE CHEST. Race the bass. Push the bass. Rise from the floor, hit the chest. R&M, no finish line. Only pressure changing shape. Fast can lose. Power stays. I don't pass the room. I turn the room my way. I turn the corner into a warning. I turn the warning into a wave. Grip, gas, grid, gate, kick, cut, crack, rotate, right, left, rear, front, drop that weight where the ribs get blunt. Sync then slip, straight then split, regular dies when the pattern gets hit. No weak wall, no fake roar, one clean impact, then give me more. Drive, dive, drag that air, cone by cone, I bend the square. Back to front, front to back, pressure writes its name on the track. Lock, load, let it roll, sub so deep it rattles the soul. No soft pass, no smooth talk, just the floorboard learning how to walk. Sub-mit. Sum-mit. Sys-sys-sys— SYSTEM! Summit to freedom. Free the summoning. Unleash the angel. Fuck the beast. Upside-down protocol. No crown. No leash. Just the driver, the road, the room, the release. Just the last clean breath before the hit lands. The race gonna start now. One... Two... Three... GO-O-O-O! GO! GO! GO! RIGHT! LEFT! BACK! FRONT! BAAM! baam! BAM! ...silence... I AM THE RUHO— HO—HO—HO— LAAA— AMIN! RUHOLAMIN. R&M. Race over? No. The room is still moving. The floor still remembers. The sub is still in the walls.