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Who’s that flying through the mud and the smoke?
Face like war, neck like joke —
Three-day sweat, two-year hate —
Brace yourself. He’s never late.
Who rides, who gallops, who’s tearing the street?
Enemy of soap, got beef with the heat.
Cheeks like hams, unshaved, unsaved,
Skin like soot and wrath engraved.
His mouth?
Never touched a toothbrush’s grace —
Worse than a gate in a ghost-town place.
Hair like trash from a broken bin,
Dust and paper swirling in.
Shirt folds hold a crushed flea’s tomb,
Sweat stains rising like perfume doom.
Collar drowned in history’s stink —
This man don’t bathe. He breathes in ink.
Who rides, who rockets, pants held by faith?
Belt long gone — but he don’t wait.
He’s stormin’ the road, spittin’ at glass,
Cursin’ the sky as the people pass.
WHO RIDES LIKE THAT?
(Dirty as the devil, flyin’ like a bat)
WHO RIDES LIKE THAT?
(Hands off the brakes, middle finger to the map)
He dodged the chores, skipped the rule,
Blew past school like a wreckin’ mule.
Suspenders flap like runaway flags,
Behind the beast — no brakes, just lags.
Through puddles, smoke, spittle, grime,
He’s got no place. He’s got no time.
Marching curses through the air,
Scars like medals. Death don’t care.
He don’t walk sidewalks — nah, too square.
He rips through crowds, he cracks the air.
A winged vision made of spite and steam,
A nightmare riding on a fever dream.
Who rides, who crashes, who stomps and yells,
A storm of boots and subway smells.
He ain’t a man — he’s a siren scream,
Born from filth with a rebel gleam.
WHO RIDES LIKE THAT?!
(Dripping fury, eyes jet-black)
WHO RIDES LIKE THAT?!
(He’s hell on wheels, and he’s never comin’ back)
Who rides, who rides…
Who rides and never hides?
