Link: https://youtu.be/BUwxotKwAaw
Pink with shimmers like a warning. Sharp like a threat. The Tiffany Rose Bull waits under Marina Bay’s dead glow, paint catching neon like blood on glass. Do you see her, or do you feel her first? The V10 sits low and tense, heat ticking through carbon and alloy, ready to break the quiet. The city breathes. She watches. Low nose. Wide shoulders. LED eyes cutting through humidity. Every line looks carved for violence. Every surface looks like it wants a reason.
Her heart runs on revs and anger. A naturally aspirated V10 that climbs toward redline like it’s chasing something it plans to catch. No boost. No filters. Just throttle and a scream that ricochets off towers and sinks into concrete. The dual-clutch hits gears like punches. All-wheel drive claws at the road. The chassis stays flat and cold. Is this what control feels like when it comes wrapped in a blade?
She moves through the streets like a predator through light and shadow. Reflections slide across her skin. Exhaust notes roll between buildings and come back heavier. Brakes bite. Steering stays wired. Corners feel narrow. Straights feel too short. By the time the streets begin to wake, heat hangs in the air and silence follows behind. A bull in tiffany rose skin. Beautiful. Hostile. Unapologetic. The Tiffany Rose Bull bends the city around her and leaves it cut open.
Savage No Refrain 