MBStudio crew 
Trainer (spoken, over the beat):
"Yo. Check the rhythm. Feel the groove.
This ain't just fightin', it's a move.
Apollo's singin'? Nah, we the band.
Gold medals? We takin' 'em, hand over hand.
Put your gloves up. Let's begin.
Welcome to the studio where the champions win."


*(Beat is thick: crunchy guitar chops, tight horns on the off-beat, solid 4/4 punch)*
Down in the dungeon where the dreams get hard
Concrete floor, smell of sweat and fightin' hard
Old school master, with a stare that's ice
Teachin' the science, payin' the price
See the youngbloods, hungry in the haze
Dodgin' jabs in a rhythmic daze
Footwork slick, a funky ballet
Makin' the heavy bag swing and sway
It's a language of power, a poetry of pain
Wash away the struggle in the sweat and the rain
He don't just train fighters, he builds a man
From the bottom of the city, with a concrete plan.


(Horns blast a triumphant, catchy hook. Ad-libs echo the main lines.)
In the Boxe Studio! (Yeah!) Where the funk meets the fight! (Come on!)
Every punch thrown is a beat in the night! (Work!)
From the basement shadows to the Olympic light!
In the Boxe Studio! (Uh-huh!) Make the rhythm right!


(Beat breaks down to just the bassline and the sound of a speed bag, then kicks back in harder)
Shadowboxin' to the tape's cassette hiss
Weavin' and bobbin', ain't a moment to miss
The rope a blur, a hypnotic twirl
Forgin' a body of iron and pearl
Trainer's mantra, a funky rap:
"Keep your guard up, don't fall for the trap!
The ring's a discotheque, you're the main star
Dance on the canvas, no matter how far!"
He sees the glory before we even land a shot
Says this grimy gym is the only sacred spot
Where the rhythm of struggle is the only sound
'Til that final bell and your hand gets raised up off the ground.


(Horns are even bigger, a choir of voices joins the hook.)
In the Boxe Studio! (Yeah!) Where the funk meets the fight! (To the top!)
Every punch thrown is a beat in the night! (Throw it!)
From the basement shadows to the Olympic light!
In the Boxe Studio! (Uh-huh!) Make the rhythm right!


(Music pulls back. A smooth, jazzy Fender Rhodes keyboard solo takes over. The rap becomes more introspective.)
The city sleeps... the streetlights glow...
But down below... the fire grows.
It's more than metal, more than gold...
It's a story waiting, brave and bold.
He whispers, "Kid, you gotta understand...
The toughest opponent is the one inside the man.
So dance with your demons, make 'em miss and slip...
This Boxe Studio is your survival trip."

(Beat continues, the sounds of the gym fade back in over it: rhythmic heavy bag punches, feet shuffling, the hiss of a jump rope.)
"Alright, that's the round. Breathe. Feel that funk?
That's the sound of a champ, before the trunk.
The world's a tough place, it's a brutal game...
But you just learned to move it, with a different aim.
Now cool down. Hydrate. The beat goes on.
The Boxe Studio... 'til the break of dawn."

In the Boxe Studio II

Music and keyboards, computer graphic&programming
and some noise...  work on Ableton LIVE, Synapse DUNE and Lennar Digital Sylenth and more Q 
"Music Held in Old Frames,
For Ears That Tame Wild Beats.
60 Years, 3x20 Brains –
Crafting Sound Since ’86."


Collab:  
Nikelodeon Opera
laquerciaJR. 
MBStudio91©
VersoSud
Nerocaravaggio

Magilla 
Trapparappa

make music make noise make happiness and destroy low budget woofers

In the Boxe Studio II

mIrcOzio!