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’Twas the pump before Christmas, all through the night, Santa crushed the reps till his muscles burned bright. Shredded to the stockings, traps tall like a hill, Veins popped like Ohio, with that tren-cough thrill. His eight yoked reindeer, antlers dripping VVS shine, Hooves rocking Crocs, looking straight-up divine. They helped fanum-tax baddies from E11even’s crew, Loaded the drop-top slay - whole squad coming through. He hit the griddy on the roof, no cap, pure flair, Flexed most-muscular hard for the timeline stare. Then peeled out for Brickell, North Pole left on read, Leaned out the window and roared as he sped: “Merry Rizzmas to all, and to all a good night!”