“Cold Streets, Hot Wheels”

Yeah… London nights, bright lights,

caras de niño, but I fight.

Fast track, deep drill,

Bearman flow, icy still.

Fast lane, London boy, never miss a beat,

caras de niño pero juego elite.

Cold eyes, sharp mind, I control la pista,

british cool, siempre lista mi conquista.

Check the mirrors, rivals shake,

cada curva es un mate.

Fake smiles, no stress,

I’m the lion in this chess.

Game face on, rival down, checkmate,

el reloj corre pero yo no late.

Spanglish flow, cold like steel,

drill in my veins, hot wheels.

Smile suave, punch real,

Ollie on top, that’s the deal.

Snap back, mirada killer,

el paddock me sigue, soy thriller.

Precision, no fear, on the track,

one move wrong y no hay way back.

La calle me enseña, la pista me doma,

soy tormenta fría, soy la broma.

Pero el que se cruza lo siente de frente,

rule Britannia, game permanente.

Echoes in my head, voces que dicen “push”,

never slow down, I don’t blush.

Steel heart, cool blood,

Bearman rise, never flood.

Spanglish flow, cold like steel,

drill in my veins, hot wheels.

Sonrisa fría, destino real,

Ollie forever, no hay rival.