Do somethin’, baby, heat-seeker on the floor,
neon jaguar, purring through the crash of the door;
snap that chain, let the bass drip gold on your skin,
we’re a glitch in the crown—watch the monarchy spin.
Rubber-burn riffs, cherry smoke in our teeth,
laughing too loud for the midnight police;
royal-blue lightning laced up in my hair,
I dare you, king-not-yet, catch me if you dare.
Do somethin’, do somethin’, time’s a fuse in my shoe,
every second’s a match and it’s dying to strike you;
press play on the riot, let the velvet explode—
when the beat turns cruel, that’s when queens take the throne.