You in My F‑50

[Intro]
You in my F‑50
Seat so low, you miss me
Cold air, wrist icy
Night talk, move pricey
[Verse 1]
You in my F‑50
Red dial glow on your skin
Both hands tight on the wheel
You say, "How far we gon' spin?"
Highways hum like a rumor
Dashboard lit like a sin
You laugh, kick off them heels
Say, "Drive till the sun clocks in" (hey)
[Chorus]
You in my F‑50
Fast life, you ride with me
Too loud for them to sleep
Whole block feel this heat
You in my F‑50
Eyes low, your lips risky
Left lane, we slide quickly
You, me, this F‑50
[Verse 2]
List of sins in the glovebox
Plans all up in your phone
You say you done with the old you
But that look say you ain't grown
City blur in the rearview
Old fears fall on the road
You lean in, bite on your lip
Say, "Boy, just don’t lose control" (woah)
[Chorus]
You in my F‑50
Fast life, you ride with me
Too loud for them to sleep
Whole block feel this heat
You in my F‑50
Eyes low, your lips risky
Left lane, we slide quickly
You, me, this F‑50
[Bridge]
Bass in your chest, you grinning
You shout, "Tonight, we winning"
We both so far from the beginning
Heartbeats race, wheels keep spinning
[Chorus]
You in my F‑50
Fast life, you ride with me
Too loud for them to sleep
Whole block feel this heat
You in my F‑50
Eyes low, your lips risky
Left lane, we slide quickly
You, me, this F‑50 (yeah)
You, me, this F‑50

rap, Dark club-rap hybrid: male vocals over a four-on-the-floor house thump, snarling sub, crisp hats, and aggressive rap verses. Hook flips into a chant with stacked gang vocals and pitched vocal chops. Verses stay minimal and tense; chorus widens with risers, synth stabs, and a pounding low end built for late-night festival systems., hip hop