Space God

(chorus intro)
Slide through Playasville, stars on the windshield (yeah)
Neon on my jewelry, whole night lit (glow)
I been in my lane so long it feel like I built it (built it)
They call me Space God—’cause everything here tilt (tilt)
South Galaxy Highway, I’m coasting, don’t press (don’t press)
Big bass in the trunk, got the whole road shaking (boom)
If you ain’t talking money, you can’t talk placement (talk that)
I don’t chase— I orbit… I’m the one they revolving (I’m him)
(Verse)
Candy paint breathing, streetlights doing ballet (slick)
Tires hum hymns, midnight smell like Saturday (late night)
Piano talk dirty, horns talk holy (mm)
Same song, two sermons—keep it smooth, keep it on me (on me)
I don’t do the loud cap, I let the trunk preach (preach)
Rearview full of envy, front glass full of peace (calm)
Little Rock in my roots—where the hunger get bold (where I’m from)
Where you learn real quick what a man worth in gold (no lie)
Country boy calculus—add wins, subtract friends (facts)
Multiply the hustle, divide time, do it again (run it back)
I learned early: the shine bring shade with it (shade)
So I keep a calm face and a blade grin with it (don’t try it)
If the world feel heavy, I make it rotate (spin)
Put the map in my palm, tell the sky “vacate” (move)
Playasville exit, I’m sliding like a saint (slide)
But the bassline sinning, leave the asphalt faint (boom-boom)
( Chorus)
Slide through Playasville, stars on the windshield (yeah)
Neon on my jewelry, whole night lit (glow)
I been in my lane so long it feel like I built it (built it)
They call me Space God—’cause everything here tilt (tilt)
South Galaxy Highway, I’m coasting, don’t press (don’t press)
Big bass in the trunk, got the whole road shaking (boom)
If you ain’t talking money, you can’t talk placement (talk that)
I don’t chase— I orbit… I’m the one they revolving (I’m him)
(Verse)
I’m player-made—no cosplay, no costume (real)
Just gas money turned to passports in the glove room (skrrt)
I done seen good folks go bad for a dollar (hate that)
So I treat loyalty like land—buy it, then I holler (mine)
Big wheels, big dreams, both take alignment (line up)
One wrong angle and the whole thing need realignment (get right)
I’m in my own skybox, watching how they move (I see)
Everybody want the glow, don’t nobody want the bruise (uh-huh)
Tennessee taught me pace—how to ride through the weight (slow burn)
How to turn that pressure to power and still look straight (solid)
Pimp talk with a purpose, I’m stacking for the seeds (for life)
If it don’t feed the family, I don’t call it a need (nah)
Horns blare like a verdict, keys drip like code (listen)
Bass knock make the boulevard feel like it’s on load (heavy)
They say “Space God” like it’s something I invented (nah)
That’s just what happens when the lane get extended (facts)
chorus (Outro)
Slide through Playasville, stars on the windshield (yeah)

southern cinematic rap, futuristic keys, organ pad, horn stabs, bass guitar, deep 808, roomy drums, deep vocals, vibrant