BTA

The bass booms like an engine at the starting line, and everything around seems to start glowing with banknotes and then. There is no room for modesty here - only predatory confidence, the smell of alcohol, and the glare of neon lights in which faces are lost. This is not a song, but a moving mass of currency: every beat is the rustle of banknotes, every verse is a challenge to those left behind the bar without change. The whole point is in the energy, in the ability to live in the “now,” when morality takes a back seat and money is the only measure of volume. And even if it makes you a little nauseous, it still rocks.