[Intro — The hum of the engine, the belt snapping, the low 808 bass]
Yo… it’s 16BT.
(yeah)
You said I’m backseat?
Cool.
You never looked what’s up front. (on God)
Let’s ride.

[Verse 1]
Night job, cold hands, still grindin’ (yeah)
No time for talk — just ridin’ (woah)
Front seat smell like mocha and fries (on God)
You call me backseat — girl, that’s wise (straight up)

Clocked out late, smell like work, yeah
You post your lips, call me jerk (woah)
Four cars yours front yard, still play broke (yeah)
You hate my calm, I close your door (on God)

Two shifts deep, eyes red, still clean (yeah)
You sell your dream, I live routine (woah)
No drama, no flex, no scene (yeah)
You loud — I lean, unseen (straight up)

[Hook / Anti-hook #1]
Backseat? Yeah, ‘cause your front seat’s a dump (woah)
I ain’t ridin’ shotgun through your junk (yeah)
Front seat’s full of lies and fries (on God)
I chill in the back, stay clean, stay wise (straight up)

[Verse 2]
Said shave your back — talk’s too cheap (woah)
Can’t reach that low, but you sure dig deep (yeah)
Lipstick gone? Check your bag (on God)
I don’t touch junk that tags a drag (yeah)

Call me parasite — nah, you feed on views (woah)
I work, you scroll and pick your news (straight up)
Bride on paper, clubs at night (yeah)
Three stories high — I saw that light (on God)

Block my texts, then watch my page (woah)
Talk psycho just to hide your rage (yeah)
“Everyone hates you” — that’s funny too (on God)
They nod to me when I walk through (straight up)

[Bridge — silence, only the ticking of the turn signal]
No hate, no chase, just math (yeah)
Two paths crossed, split in half (woah)
You spill noise, I make sound (on God)
You lost me once — don’t come around (straight up)

Screens fade, gas light low (yeah)
Heart cold, engine glow (woah)
Every mile — a cleaner line (yeah)
Leave your mess, I drive mine (straight up)

[Hook / Anti-hook #2]
Backseat? Cool, front seat’s a mess (woah)
Trash and drama, girl, no less (yeah)
I ain’t ridin’ shotgun through your storm (on God)
I built my lane — I drive my form (straight up)

[Outro — the sound of the engine, the bass dies down]
Front seat’s clean now — I made my way (yeah)
It smells like peace, not mocha today (woah)
And yeah, baby — I bought that car (on God)
Front seat’s clean now... but it ain’t for you (straight up).

(Guess we met just to never meet again.)