M3 V8, 2017 was dope Doin' 120 down the 805 Hard top down, Kendrick bumpin' just to cope Lucky your boy's still alive Fast forward to 2026, rollin' in the GEM E6 Smokin' blunts doin' 25 Every toke slows the clock. Past me? Can’t rewind. ⏪

Tank's full for three winters, pit crew packed up, every gauge in the green.
Furnace in the basement runnin' hotter than ever while the stands swear it's a losin' scene.
Half the grid lined up right where they paid to get in. Nobody's flinchin' between.
Every engine's idlin' on one fuel. Light ain't changed. Keys turned, foot still, fuckin' serene.

They print the money. I print patience.
Guess which one the fuckin' clock respects.

Count the coins, average cost is fifty-five. Count the dollars, it's eighty-two.
Old hands bought cheap. The big money came in late and paid full due.
Now the average dollar's sittin' at even, same line that broke in '22.
Reclaimed it in '23 and never looked back. Line's right here again. Your move.

Volatility's whisperin' forty-four, five-year average sixty-five.
Half of that's a coil, half of that's a grown man learnin' how to drive.
Quiet came before the run in '23, and before the drop in '25.
Quiet don't pick a side. It just tells you somethin's 'bout to arrive.

Wrong about the coin in '13.
Learned. That's the whole lesson.

We can do this the easy way or the hard way.
Easy: your own model ranked it first, so you let the clients in today.
Hard: you wait till the long bond's unloved and the printer's got the final say.
Then you buy it off the kid you laughed at, on his terms, at the price he makes you pay.

Can't rush a roux. Can't rush a believer.
Low heat, steady stir, and one day it's gumbo.

Get your Bitcoin off exchanges immediately.

Eighty-three on the dash. Five more, Doc, and the flux kicks in.
Hit eighty-eight, we're back at September's top. That's where the future begins.
Rode this ride up from one-seventy-one. Clock tower's still keepin' the spin.
Roads? Where we're goin', we don't need a bank to let us in.

Polite company won't touch politics, religion or money.
One of the three finally showed its work.

Eighty-two's holdin' like it's carved in the slate.
Check clears tomorrow, six-thirty mil' at the gate.
Thirty-five thousand in the vault, 'bout seven more on the plate.
Same floor, heavier weight. Little brother don't wait. $ASST

Y'all bettin' on the speed. I'm bettin' on the brakes.
Floor it at the top, that's right where the cushion breaks.
Full tank in the trunk when the whole damn road shake.
Growth just pay the bill.
Pace decide who make it.

For every action there's an equal and opposite reaction.
They pushed it out the door. Newton's still in the transaction.

They laughed at the man building boats under clear skies.
Now the press is the rain, and the waterline climbs.
Twenty-one million seats, no extra deck, no spare oar.
Every ten minutes the hull seals tighter than before.
Keep laughing from the dock. The tide don't need your vote.
Forty days of printing, and everybody wants a boat.

Every dollar's a promise somebody else can break.
Every sat is a fact. No permission, no fake.
They tax you twice: once on the paycheck, once with the print.
I quit chasing raises and started owning the mint.

Got Bitcoin?

Bank wouldn't count my keys, that's how I know they're mine.
Cage the coin and they'll stamp it, free it and you're out of line.
Fixed rate's a long clock, and the long money drinks.
Bodyguard at the door, so the tourist rethinks.
Power law ain't the cap, it's the crowd on the slope.
I got a key to every floor, and I still check the rope.