Everybody’s beat, under neon rain,
Lupo scratches moonlight, turns heart to flame;
Tanzamomo whispers, bass drops like sin,
We’re silver wolves hunting the pulse within.
Freeze-frame sweat, rewind the night,
Hands up, ghosts—let the strobe ignite;
When the kick drum breaks and the city forgets,
We’re the echo that stays, the rhythm that never quits.