👁‍🗡️ MODUL8 – Ghosts of the Beats 👁‍🗡️

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 01

I thought I had silenced them, buried their sound,
but corpses of rhythm keep circling around.
Snares rattle hollow like chains in the tomb,
hi-hats whisper smoke in a ghost-haunted room.
The booth is a coffin, the verse is a curse,
every bar resurrects what I murdered in bursts.

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Ghosts of the Beats [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 01]

⚖️ MODUL8 – Confession of Beat Murder ⚖️

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 05

I’ll say it outright — I murdered the beat,  
left snares in the gutter, bass dead at my feet.  
Hi-hats silenced, no pulse, no law,  
cadence confessed to the crimes that I saw.  
The booth is a courtroom, my verse is the plea,  
each rhyme a confession that echoes through me.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Confession of Beat Murder [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 05]

🔥 MODUL8 – Percussion Inferno 🔥

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 06

I don’t just rap, I ignite the kit,  
percussion combusts when the cadence is lit.  
Snares crack embers, hi-hats catch flame,  
bassline erupts — inferno my name.  
The booth is a furnace, the mic is a spark,  
each verse an explosion that swallows the dark.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Percussion Inferno [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 06]

⏱️ MODUL8 – Pulse Collapse ⏱️

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 07

I don’t march on your measures, I bend them, I break,  
each bar is a puzzle, each cadence a quake.  
Rhythms inside of rhythms collide,  
layers of timing you can’t even ride.  
Profanity spliced in a syncopate war,  
my verses are mazes — you won’t find the door.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Pulse Collapse [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 07]

🩸 MODUL8 – Twisted Beginnings 🩸

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 08

Twisted — twisted — throats get slitted,  
beats turn corpses, booth blood-spitted.  
Every damn rival left broken, conflicted,  
cadence compulsive, obsession addicted.  
The booth is a morgue, the mic is a knife,  
I murder in rhythm, I fracture your life.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Twisted Beginnings [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 08]

☠️ MODUL8 – Venom Script ☠️

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 09

Poison in the language, the ink drips slow,  
every line lethal, the venom will grow.  
Syllables venomous, syntax a scar,  
I spit black scripture, I fracture the stars.  
The booth is a temple, the page is a curse,  
every damn verse is a coffin in verse.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Venom Script [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 09]

🍽️ MODUL8 – Ripping & Eating 🍽️

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 10

I don’t just rip you apart, I consume what remains,  
beats in my stomach, blood floods the chains.  
Snares snap bones, hi-hats slice skin,  
bassline convulses — digestion begins.  
The booth is a banquet, the mic is a jaw,  
every damn rhyme is a rip and a gnaw.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Ripping & Eating [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 10]

🖤 MODUL8 – Bodybags 🖤

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 11

BODYBAGS — BODYBAGS — zipped in stacks,  
every beat I kill goes black on black.  
Verses the shovel, cadence the pit,  
plastic-lined syllables — I never quit.  
The booth is a morgue, obsession drags,  
I rap till I’m buried in BODYBAGS.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Bodybags [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 11]

🪓 MODUL8 – Infinite Piece 🪓

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 12

Every damn syllable tears through the bone,  
no rival survives when I step in the zone.  
Voices keep calling, they echo my name,  
I carve through their bodies, obsession, and shame.  
Fragments are scattered, no silence, no cease,  
I murder my rivals in infinite piece.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Infinite Piece [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 12]

🥾 MODUL8 – Stomp the Hats 🥾

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 13

I don’t let ‘em shimmer, I grind them to dust,  
boots on percussion, destruction’s a must.  
Ticks snap brittle, the cadence collapses,  
snare gasps crooked as rhythm elapses.  
The booth is a crater, the verdict is flat,  
I stomp till there’s nothing — no trace of the hats.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Stomp the Hats [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 13]

⚖️ MODUL8 – Interrogation ⚖️

Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 14

“They will find you.” — voices collide,  
the calm accuses, the manic won’t hide.  
Every reply is a weaponized phrase,  
confession in rhythm, a courtroom ablaze.  
Why did we do it? because silence was cruel,  
because hunger was holy, because breaking’s the rule.  

🔗 Corpse Sonata [Vol. I]

This is not just an album. This is curbstep; a haunted collision of Phonk’s grit, Trap’s precision, Dubstep’s weight, Glitch’s fracture, and Harlem Curb’s raw swing. MODUL8 dissects the beat, buries it, and resurrects it as something darker: snares that rattle like bone, hi-hats that whisper like smoke, basslines that quake like gravestones splitting open.  

I kill and confess, but the echoes repeat,  
corpses of cadence lie dead at my feet.  
Haunted, deranged, the refrain won’t quit,  
the sonata’s eternal — you can’t escape it.  

https://soundcloud.com/modul8-702279756/sets/modul8-corpse-sonata-vol-i

Interrogation [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 14]

The future of sound isn’t AI takeover. It’s augmented human amplification. The consciousness orchestrating mindless intelligence. 

Phonk × Dubstep × Glitch × Trap × Boom Bap.  

MODUL8: where human soul collides with raw signal.

Ghosts of the Beats [Corpse Sonata I ≠ Track 01]

MODUL8

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