Weather getting colder
I fear I’m growing older 
Reaper by my shoulder
Watching Hell freeze over
Middle of October 
Never choosing sober 
Pain weighs on me like a boulder
My new girl bipolar
I feel like a polar bear
Got my new hair
Don’t really care
Bout my life, I tear
My skin up like paper
Vaping all this vapor 
Probably die later Moments never savored
Put on my new jacket 
Think about this rap shit
Praying for some Xanax
Pray I catch you lacking 
Sleep and hope I don’t wake up
Not tryna see the sun
But my homie got his cup 
I do too cuz I don’t give a fuck

No, I really don’t give a fuck

FREEZING POINT

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Intro:
Это не лирика — это контейнер с реальностью, прям в твою дверь.
Конец года, сука, а мы всё ещё рвём микрофоны,
словно пытаемся пробить крышу этого города.

Verse 1:
Я влетаю в бит, как мусора в хату без стука.
Грязь на кроссах, холод в голове, пустота в кармане —
как полки в “маркете” после комендантского.

Мой флоу — смесь дешёвого спирта и бензина,
дымный коктейль районных легенд.
Пока вы выкладываете сторис,
я считаю, сколько дней до аванса
и сколько звонков ещё проигнорирую от военкомата.

Пятиэтажки смотрят пустыми глазницами,
балконы забиты хламом, как головы тех,
кто ещё верит в что раньше было лучше.

Запах плесени, семок, пережжённой проводки —
район, где каждый второму должен,
и каждый делает вид, что всё нормально.

Выходишь во двор — сразу:
“привет, братан, позычешь пятак?”
Да я сам должен всем, но продолжаю идти вперёд,
потому что пауза тут равна поражению.

Chorus:
Это не big city — это Кременчуг, самый тёмный бронкс на карте.
Здесь не выживают — здесь спорят с судьбой на повышенных тонах.
Это не small town — это полигон после взрыва.
Каждый второй тут — фитиль,
каждый первый — уже горит.

Verse 2:
Мой стиль — когда жизнь давит,
а ты всё равно поднимаешься и смотришь ей в глаза.
Двадцать пять, а устал так, будто сорок за плечами.
Но я не продаюсь — слишком дорого стою
для ваших “патриотических” лейблов.

Мой контракт — надпись кровью на стене подъезда,
а не бумага с логотипом.
Ты качаешь попу в тиктоке,
я качаю район,
и он отвечает басами, как боксёр в клинче.

У меня нет спонсора—
только знакомые по два-два-восемь,
шлют приветы из мест,
где лампочки тусклее, чем луна за окном.

Их биты — это стуки в голове ночами.
Мой голос — нож для тех, кто хоронил андер.
Я его поднял, когда родился,
и снова — когда понял, что назад дороги нет.

Verse 3:
Мне не нужны стадионы —
мне нужны подъезды, где пацаны включат мой трек
и будут орать куплеты громче салюта.

Мне не нужны миллионы —
мне нужно, чтобы мама перестала считать каждую монету.
Мне не нужны таблоиды —
мне нужно, чтобы те, кто нас списывал,
сами легли в яму и закрыли крышку.

Это Кременчуг.
Здесь мечты тонут в лужах вместе с окурками.
Летом плюс тридцать и воняет мусоркой,
зимой минус десять и воняет всё тем же.

Но я включаю бит и читаю —
потому что если остановлюсь,
значит проиграл окончательно.

Outro:
Глок в ящике стола.
Дождь стучит по подоконнику.
Город не спит.
И я — тоже.
Тох..Похуй.

23x10

Punk Bitch

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[Verse]

City breathes poison, coughing on the fumes,

Neon signs flicker, cutting through the gloom.

Rats on the pavement, shuffle like a tune,

Echoes in the alley, shadows hold a tomb.



Heart heavy, dragging like a broken chain,

Eyes scan the skyline, soaked with acid rain.

Time’s a crooked dealer, hands stained with pain,

Every tick a dagger, carving through the vein.



[Chorus]

Concrete reverie, streets never sleep,

Secrets in the cracks, buried six feet deep.

Dreams crumble slow, dust in the heap,

Concrete reverie, promises don’t keep.



[Verse 2]

Cigarette whispers curling in the air,

Hustlers in the doorway, selling out despair.

The devil’s got a booth, take a number, say a prayer,

Angels in the rearview, ain't nobody care.



Dollar bills folded, stained with sweat,

Playing Russian roulette with unpaid debts.

Hope's a mirage, sun that never sets,

Chasing ghosts of freedom, but it ain’t come yet.



[Bridge]

Knuckles on the brick wall, blood leaves a mark,

Chasing a spark in a world so dark.

Life’s a tightrope, every step a lark,

Fall too far, you’re food for the shark.

Concrete Reverie

Alive & Unwell

Little Things

PROJECT PROPOSAL: LYRICAL COMPOSITION AND MULTIMEDIA PRODUCTION SPECIFICATIONS

DATE: January 20, 2026
PREPARED FOR: [Jon Arve Ovesen]
PREPARED BY: [Jon-Arve Constantine]
SUBJECT: Urban Norwegian Narrative and Music Production Concept

Title: Nordic Noir and Neon Circuits
Artist: [Jon Arve Ovesen]

(Verse 1)
The tram line rattles through the heart of the capital
Where the winter is a weight, heavy and astronomical
I’m standing on Karl Johan with a pocket full of grit
While the shadows of the Munch museum watch the city split
Between the high-rise suits and the kids on the low
Where the Akerselva flows with a dark, rhythmic glow
I’m back in the lab, smell of ozone and pine
Mixing tracks until the sun and the horizon align
I got the MPC clicking like a clock in a vault
If the snare doesn't snap, then it’s probably my fault
Dr. Dre in the monitors, that surgical sound
While I’m building up an empire from the underground
It’s that Above the Law swing, that Pomona-to-Oslo
Keeping legends in the loop while I’m chasing the flow
The concrete is freezing but the circuits are hot
I’m the ghost in the machine, taking every last shot.

(Chorus)
From the fjords to the streetlights, we’re searching for light
In the middle of the struggle, in the dead of the night
It’s the rhythm of the city, it’s the beat of the heart
When the love and the music pull the silence apart
Defining the purpose, the meaning, the soul
In a world made of glass, trying to stay whole.

(Verse 2)
Now let’s talk about the meaning, is it gold or is it grace?
Or the way the salt air hits you in your tired face?
Eminem with the pen, I’m dissecting the brain
Trying to find the silver lining in the freezing rain
We’re chasing a purpose that we can’t quite define
Like a lyricist searching for the perfectest line
Love is a luxury, or maybe it’s the cure
In a city where the intentions are rarely ever pure
I’ve seen the heartbreak at the midnight kebab stand
And the promises broken by a shivering hand
But the studio is sanctuary, the booth is the church
Where we find the very answers for which we all search
It’s about the legacy, the print that we leave
In the tapestry of history that we’re trying to weave
Whether it’s romance or the bass in the floor
We’re always knocking on a hidden, metaphorical door.

(Verse 3)
The production life is lonely, just the glow of the screen
Filtering the frequencies of everything I’ve seen
I’ve got the G-funk bounce in a Nordic environment
Working for the passion, not the day of retirement
Oslo is the canvas and the ink is my blood
Rising like a titan through the snow and the mud
If life is a melody, then love is the hook
The most difficult chapter in a complicated book
I’m tightening the compression on the stresses of life
Cutting through the static like a surgical knife
From the Aker Brygge lights to the Grønland blocks
We’re keeping time on the most expensive of clocks
So I lay it all down, every fear, every dream
A part of the machine, but I’m shedding the steam
Keep the speakers rattling until the world understands
The destiny we hold in our calloused-up hands.

(Outro)
Yeah. From the 01 area code to the world. 
It’s the sound of the North. 
Calculated. Cold. 
But the heart stays warm. 
Jon Constantine on the boards. 
Oslo city, stand up.

Style Description: 
Hard-hitting 90s G-Funk mixed with modern cinematic Hip-Hop. Deep, melodic sub-bass inspired by Dr. Dre’s Chronic 2001. High-pitched soulful synth leads in the style of Above the Law. Precise, aggressive, and technical rap delivery similar to Eminem. Atmospheric background textures reflecting a cold, urban Nordic environment. 100 BPM. Sharp, crisp snare drums, heavy kick, and polished high-fidelity production. Dark, reflective, and gritty mood with an epic, soulful chorus featuring vocal harmonies.

SUBMITTED BY: 

[Jon-Arve Constantine]
[20/01/2026]

Nordic Noir and Neon Circuits

STRE$$A - QUEEN KONG ft. KELLEN DE VOS

CHARLIE D. RECLAIMS THE LIGHT WITH SOUL-BARING ANTHEM "THE GATES AND THE KEY"
NASHVILLE, TN — January 30, 2026 – To capture the true grit of "The Gates and The Key," artist Charlie D. and producer A Class didn't just record a track; they performed a pilgrimage. Bypassing local production, the team flew to the heart of the American South via private jet to consume the raw, ancestral culture of the Delta and the high-stakes recording environment of Nashville.

This intentional immersion allowed the duo to absorb the history of the genre, ensuring that the "Gothic Blues" sound was built on the same hallowed ground as the legends who came before them. Recorded amidst the very air that birthed the anthem, the track serves as a cinematic exploration of the transition from spiritual incarceration to absolute freedom.

"This production required the weight of the Delta," says producer A Class. "We went to where the magic happens—where the dust and the devotion meet—to document the exact moment a soul steps out of purgatory and into the sun."

"The Gates and The Key" distinguishes itself through:

Cultural Immersion: A sound forged in the heart of the genre's birthplace, moving beyond mimicry into true spiritual resonance.

Authentic Narrative: Lyrics that delve into the "predatory thoughts" and the "ink of red" of a self-written sentence, reflecting a deep understanding of the recovery journey.

Cinematic Production: A slow-burn arrangement featuring heavy foot-stomps and distorted resonator guitars produced with a 15-year veteran's clinical precision.

As A Class prepares to fly back to his cabin tomorrow to begin writing with a new-found serenity, "The Gates and The Key" stands as a monument to what happens when international expertise meets authentic cultural immersion.

"The Gates and The Key" is available now on all major streaming platforms.

Media Contact: A Class Studios Management: (+506) 8788-4231 Email: aclassdjproducer@gmail.com Instagram: @iamaclass Spotify: https://dsbkpt4.short.gy/my-link

The Gates and The Key

ME is a grounded journey through my ancestry and identity, delivered with calm, gritty precision over a dark southern hip-hop pulse. Moving across generations and continents, the track connects my history, survival, and culture into a steady narrative - showing how the past still lives inside the present.

STRE$$A - QUEEN KONG ft. KELLEN DE VOS

Kellen De Vos Ent

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