Drake and Karl Marx are stuck in Underground Metro System Failure and forced to have a deep conversation.

"Yo, this whole situation is just...stuck, man. Like my flow on a Tuesday," Drake sighed, kicking a loose piece of gravel.

Marx adjusted his spectacles, "Indeed. A microcosm of the inherent stagnation capitalism fosters; the means of transit, paralyzed by its own contradictions."

Drake chuckled, "Contradictions, word. Like how I'm supposed to flex in a stalled train?"

"Your 'flex,' as you term it, is merely the superficial manifestation of exploited labor, Drake. Consider the workers who built this very tunnel."

"I feel you, Karl. But everybody wants a piece of the pie, right? A little champagne wishes and caviar dreams?"

"Ah, the opiate of the masses rebranded for the modern age. False consciousness, perpetuated by catchy beats."

"But don't you think people deserve to enjoy the fruits of their labor, though? Like, I work hard for this." Drake pointed to his jacket.

"Hard work should not necessitate the accumulation of wealth by a select few, leaving others stranded in metaphorical and literal tunnels!" Marx exclaimed.

"Alright, alright, deep thoughts. But even revolution gotta have a fire soundtrack, right?" Drake grinned, pulling out his phone.

"Perhaps, but true liberation requires more than just a catchy melody, my friend. It demands a fundamental restructuring of society."