Lyrics

[Intro]
Flute lacing the beat, smooth but menacing, trap drums knocking hard. Deep bass shaking the room—let’s go.

[Verse 1]
Hundred lamp shatter, that's the zone I attack,
Pucks in the net, they can’t hold me back.
Ice cuts sharp, just a Russian warpath,
Crosby's on the bench, man, he doin' no math.

[Verse 2]
Records crumble when I send that slap,
Top shelf glory, take the goalie a nap.
I’m in the book where legends get inscribed,
Sid cryin' to refs, man, his hustle’s deprived.

[Chorus]
Goal king status, crown made of net,
Silky wrist flick, that's the move they respect.
Crosby soft, team fade, check the descent,
Capitals rise while Pittsburgh laments.

[Bridge]
Flute solo crying cold wind through the rink,
Trap high hats tickin', give you time to think.
Bass drops heavy, crowd screaming for the king,
Russian-born savage, I was destined to sting.

[Verse 3]
Sid's dynasty burned out like an old bulb,
Meanwhile, my goals still crack like a skull.
I’m the czar on skates, they ain’t ready to win,
Crosby lookin’ fragile like glass in the wind.