Gun it,

Tearing up the channel with noise,

They keep pretending I backed it,

Like a media magnate,

Like the news of the tracks attracting eyes like they’re captive,

Keep pretending I’ve hacked it,

It’s just me and the droids who listen

regular enough to pull a message from the static,

You wish you had my tactic,

A single’s all I need

To live the dream of art attacking all my problems into paper,

I think I’ll see you later,

I think I’ll see you later when I feel like reminding you how good at this I feel,

Don’t care about the real,

Come join me in the fibres where

the sellers and the scammers and the salvage look the same,

I might be being hunted but I guess that makes me game,

I guess that makes you players and I bet that feels good, huh,

I bet that feels good,

Put that shit in a frame,

Hang up when you’ve lost, keep holding on to the shame

I get it in the neck a lot,

Waste it,

Creds, no crew, but I’m rich in taste,

It’s not the point to compete,

But if I did then I’d be fine,

A regular reminder of the size of the line,

Uh, yeah

I’m looking for that stellar sign,

Basic,

Place and time, give me all my space,

Kick off a movement if I’m lucky

Or a joke if I’m not,

I could be elegance and grace, or I’ve just lost the plot,

My signal goes from here to space,

The meaning might miss but the funk survives,

My lyrics went from stars to bits,

But I’m still making hits,

Keeping your ears alive,

So go and move your hips,

I know you feel the drive,

We’ll keep the roof jumping till the sun arrives,

Look,

Don’t hate on how I charge,

I need a sun-sized smack to release my bars,

Look,

Get busy with the glitz,

I know you wanna blitz and blam,

It’s like we’re done with glam,

Look,

Don’t hate on how I slide,

Your jealously ain’t slick, it’s ruining my glide,

Look,

Don’t hate on how I charge,

I need a dance floor, filled with the local stars