(Verse 1) In the streets of Varna, yeah, he’s the

(Verse 1) In the streets of Varna, yeah, he’s the king, Eighth-grade beaver doing his own thing. Three stripes sliding on his Adidas track, With a shoulder bag hanging on his back. He’s walking to the shop with a heavy stride, Nowhere for a pepperoni slice to hide. (Chorus) He’s the Beaver Man, Varna’s elite, Eating pizza daily on every single street. Got a fuzzy mustache growing on his lip, Life’s a bit messy, but he’s got that grip. No shower today, but he doesn't care, There’s a wild kind of energy in the air. (Verse 2) Math class is boring, he’s dreaming of cheese, Feeling that sea breeze, living at ease. The mustache stays, it’s a choice, it’s a vibe, Part of the Varna eighth-grade tribe. He keeps his style low-key, strictly relaxed, With a box of pizza—that’s a proven fact. (Outro) Adidas on point, bag across the chest, The hungry Beaver Man is the Varna best.