Car-Masutra

Yeah.

I don’t just drive ‘em, I operate ‘em.

Complete mechanical intimacy.

Check the pressure... make sure she’s ready.

Let’s go.

(Verse 1)

Step into the dimly lit sanctuary, smells like high-octane and ambition

I’m looking at her frame, contemplating every single position

She’s sitting low, wide-bodied, got that stance that makes you stutter

I’m a smooth operator, making every gasket flutter

I approach from the rear, eyeing up the dual-pipe symmetry

The way the light hits the paint, it’s a درس in chemistry

I reach for the handle, thumb the sensor, hear the click-clack

Slide into the bucket seat, no room for the kickback

I’m enveloped in the scent of the hide, the premium grain

I can feel her heartbeat through the chassis, entering my vein

I’m a surgeon with the ignition, I don’t just turn the key

I tease the starter till she moans, a mechanical soliloquy!

(Chorus)

Shift it, grip it, rip it, let the pressure build high

Underneath the hood, she’s screaming, "Baby, let’s fly!"

It’s a rhythmic seduction, the way the needle hits the red

Every thought of slowing down is officially dead

I’m a speed-freak lover, got my hand on the stick

When the turbo starts to spool, yeah, it happens real quick!

(Verse 2)

Look—

I’m a specialist, a mentalist, I’m checking every fluid level

I’m a dance with the machine, I’m a tango with the devil

In a carbon fiber corset, she’s a masterpiece of tension

Did I forget to mention the independent suspension?

I’m a rub the dash, touch the glass, feel the heat of the vent

Every penny on the modifications was brilliantly spent

I like ‘em tight in the corners, I like ‘em loose on the straight

I’m a master of the timing, I don’t ever make her wait

I’m talking 'bout that intercooler, keeping everything chill

While I’m working on the throttle with a surgical skill

I’m a deep-dive driver, I’m a sensory addict

When the V12 opens up, the results are sporadic!

(Bridge)

Ooh... feel the vibration.

Up the spine, through the floorboard.

She’s thirsty... feed her the 93.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

There it is.

(Verse 3)

I’m a nocturnal animal, a beast in the fast lane

I’m a penetrate the silence with the sound of the drivetrain

I’m a lyrical mechanic, got the grease on my knuckles

I’m a make the asphalt ripple till the pavement just buckles

I’m checking the telemetry, I’m monitoring the flow

I’m a keep the RPMs high, I’m a put on a show

She’s a high-maintenance lady with a thirst for the spark

I’m a leave a trail of fire as I tear through the dark

I’m a "Car-Sutra" king, I know every sweet spot

I’m a keep the engine running till she’s blistering hot

From the manifold to the muffler, she’s a total obsession

I’m a leave the competition with a deep-seated depression!

(Outro)

Yeah.

She’s cooling down now.

Steam rising off the vents.

That’s a job well done.

Check the oil.

Wipe the sweat off the steering wheel.

We do it again tomorrow.

Out.