Bass drop, Vietnam drums hit like monsoon rain,
Night ride, neon pho streets blur in the low lane.
Subwoofer heart, every kick a Mekong wave,
We ghost through Saigon smoke, bass soldiers, unchained.
Tiger rhythm growls, pineapple moon on the dash,
Rubber smoke tango, 128 BPM clash.
No visa, just visa-v, pulse in the chrome,
DJ Datou’s decree: lose your soul, find home.