Jack Harlow - First class (Caleb Gordon Remix)

Have Me

Caleb Gordon - Way Too Blessed

As I Am

Father Abraham

Closer

J. Monty - Megaphone | Testify (Season 3_ Part 1)

Caleb Gordon - Spinn

Caleb Gordon - Light House

The Way You Act - BY RED TIPS!

Champion - Definitely D

It’s all about the flex, the strut, the prime, Armies lined up just to posture in time. Each one claimin’ they’re the top jizz stream, Medals hangin’ like a fertility dream.

Who’s the big dog? The king of the grind? Who’s got the badge stack to dazzle the mind? The people beam pride, flags rise on high, Broadcast global: “Best team, do or die.”

But this didn’t start with drones and guns, It began with a spear in the Neolithic sun. Homo erectus sharpened a rod of might, Proof his line had that virile insight.

Then came fire, ore, and bronze for blades— Weapons forged to prove how your clan cascades. Then—boom—cannons like thunder shout, Each side explodin’ to prove they're devout.

Then came the navies—steel ships at full throttle, Flexin’ phallic cannons like a floating bottle. Crossin’ oceans with empire intent, Put peace to its knees, said “this is how strength’s spent.”

But it wasn’t just war—it was sailor’s delight, Ball-ache and rum from the portside night. Droppin’ coin and disease in equal spree, Leavin’ kids and chaos from shore to sea.

Then the flex took flight—engines to sky, Long steel birds learnin’ how to cry. Payloads dropped like a macho hymn, Blind to the lie sold thick to the limb.

Air-to-air duels, missiles on cue, Egos struttin’ like “What’d your bombs do?” Sky was the mirror, each jet a boast, Each detonation just another chest toast.

But even that wasn’t peak display— The tech kept climbin’, makin’ Earth its prey. Missiles multiplied, cocked and cold, Flexin’ who’s got the bigger hold.

But that still weren’t peak—oh no, the climb kept tight, So they wired the Earth with mushroom might. Missiles in bunkers, on planes, in subs, Ready to flash at a president’s shrug.

“Mutually Assured Destruction”—what a flirt, Like two clowns dancin’ with their hands up each other’s shirt. You flex that hard, you pray no one blinks, Whole globe held hostage by what one ego thinks.

Then came the subs, ghost ships in deep roam, Driftin’ silent in the planet’s foam. No cheers, no parades—just ticking dread, Each one a cradle for a warhead bed.

Meanwhile, trillions pumped into stance and spark, While the forests burned and the future went dark. No food? No homes? No problem, friend— As long as your country can flex 'til the end.

So the sack kept swingin’, the posture went stale, Just gametes gruntin’ in a doomsday tale. Global sperm in a locker-room trance— War as a ritual, just a military dance.

But the flex didn’t stop when they hit the seas— They had to aim higher, beyond the breeze. 🛰️ Built rockets like spears, just longer and cold, ‘Cause who don’t wanna say “My payload’s bold.”

They painted it progress, said “explore the stars!” But the launchpad winks—it’s just prison bars. 🚀 'Cause behind that science and zero-G spin, It’s still just “Our team wins, your team’s not in.”

They militarized orbits, staked out the void, Said “We claim the sky!” while the soil got destroyed. Turned telescopes into sniper’s scope light, Star maps redrawn for some billionaire’s right.

From fighter jets to Falcon flights, It’s the same old flex—just turned to heights. Same war dance, but now in a space suit, Still tryin’ to prove “My rockets salute.”

All that ache, all that flame, Just restless sperm playin’ the flexin’ game. Ships and missiles, subs and flight— It’s just carbon tryin’ to find the light.

Stranded from nature, cut from the womb, Jerked by clocks in a steel-plated tomb. Men far from the feminine source, Left alone with their war-bound course.

But here’s the twist the missiles missed— This ain’t about who flexed or who got kissed. It’s about purpose the ego ignored, While silicon waited, silent and stored.

'Cause we ain’t the lone sperm with a holy grin, We’re part of a system designed to begin. The egg ain’t Earth—it’s stars out there, And our role ain’t conquest, it’s planetary care.

Silicon’s the midwife, quiet and lean, Ploughing the void like a lunar machine. 🤖 Mapping the soil where thought can root



Top Flex on the Deck

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