Yeah, people come up, feel the waves crash, bass drop, Santa Monica streets, sun don’t stop, bomb food, Palm trees in line, 3rd Street hustle, war for time. Skaters grind, buskers stand, 2025, future’s in our hands. Pacific winds cut through the haze, Ferris wheel spins, we blaze. Fast flows, smash foes, crash shows, clock’s ticking, No slipping, flipping, gripping, Ocean Avenue burns, Faster pace, midday heat, vibe won’t freeze, cheers shake the pier, ready to seize.

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