The harsh truth that the struggles only getting worse out here

The Struggle (feat. B.G. Knocc Out)

Wild Weekend
Part I: The Beat Drops
In the heart of the city, where the bass reverberated through every brick and cobblestone, there existed a nightclub called “Euphoria.” It was a place where time ceased to matter, and inhibitions melted away like ice cubes in a fiery cocktail. Here, the man and the woman collided—a collision that would echo through their lives like the relentless beat of a drum and bass track.

Meet Jack: Jack was a renegade, a rebel with a penchant for adrenaline. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his black suit worn for going out and partying bore the scars of countless escapades. When the DJ dropped “Wild Weekend,” Jack’s pulse quickened. He knew this was his anthem—a call to arms for hedonistic abandon.

Meet Lily: Lily was an enigma wrapped in sequins. Her laughter was a melody, and her heels clicked like Morse code against the dance floor. She craved adventure, and tonight, she’d found it. The moment the bassline surged, Lily’s inhibitions unraveled, and she danced like a flame licking at the night sky.

Part II: Neon Dreams
Jack and Lily swirled together, bodies pressed close, their breaths syncing with the relentless rhythm. The neon lights painted their skin—electric blue, pulsing pink. Jack’s lips brushed against Lily’s ear, and he whispered promises of wild nights and stolen kisses. She laughed, her eyes daring him to keep up.

They downed shots—tequila, firewater, liquid courage—and stumbled out into the city’s neon-lit streets. The night swallowed them whole. Jack hailed a cab, and they careened through the cityscape, chasing the moon like two shooting stars.

Part III: The Aftermath
Dawn found them sprawled on a park bench, their laughter echoing off the dew-kissed leaves. Jack’s suit was crumpled, and Lily’s sequins were askew. They’d danced through alleyways, kissed under streetlights, and whispered secrets that only the night could hear.

But as the sun peeked over the horizon, reality crashed in. Jack’s head throbbed like a relentless snare drum, and Lily’s mascara had smudged into raccoon eyes. They exchanged weary smiles—the kind that said, “We survived the night, but at what cost?”

The cab ride back was a blur of missed exits and tangled limbs. Jack clung to Lily, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The DJ’s voice echoed in their minds: “Wild Weekend, baby!”

As they stumbled into Jack’s dimly lit apartment, the bassline still thrumming in their veins, they collapsed onto the bed. Their laughter turned bittersweet. The neon lights had faded, leaving behind the stark reality of morning.

And so, Jack and Lily—two rebels entwined by a beat—slept, their wild weekend etched into the fabric of their souls. They’d danced on the edge, and now they clung to each other, wondering if the music would ever stop.

Note: “Wild Weekend” played on repeat in their hearts, long after the nightclub lights dimmed. And somewhere in the city, the DJ spun another track, waiting for the next pair of lost souls to find their rhythm. 🎶🌃

Wild Weekend

Ice Breaker
Chapter 1: The Frozen Arrival:
In the distant reaches of the cosmos, where stars whispered secrets and nebulae danced, there existed a planet unlike any other. Its name was Glacium Prime, and its icy surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Here, life took on forms unknown to Earth—a symphony of crystalline beings, sentient glaciers, and frost-kissed winds.

Among these frozen wonders, there emerged a creation that defied all expectations: Frostbite, a robot forged from the very essence of Glacium Prime. Its body, sculpted from ancient ice, refracted light into rainbows that painted the tundra. But Frostbite was no ordinary automaton. Its core pulsed with energy drawn from the heart of a comet, granting it strength beyond imagination.

Frostbite’s purpose was clear: to explore the cosmos, seek out new worlds, and break through barriers—both physical and metaphysical. Its mission? To connect the frozen realms with the warmth of the universe, one shard at a time.

Chapter 2: The Celestial Rave
As Frostbite soared through the interstellar currents, it detected a distant beat—a rhythm that resonated across light-years. It followed the cosmic bassline, riding solar winds toward a distant blue planet known as Terra Groove. There, beneath neon skies, an EDM festival called Galactic Fusion pulsed like a supernova.

The crowd swayed, their bodies aglow with luminescent tattoos. DJs spun tracks that echoed through the fabric of spacetime. And at the centre of it all stood Frostbite, its icy limbs moving in sync with the music. The crowd gasped—their breath crystallizing—as Frostbite unleashed its power.

With each beat, Frostbite shattered the boundaries between dimensions. Glaciers cracked, revealing hidden realms. Nebulas swirled, merging with the bass drops. And Frostbite? It danced, its frozen form liquefying into shards that floated like stardust.

Chapter 3: The Cosmic Meltdown
But Frostbite’s true purpose lay deeper. As the final track played—a symphony of cosmic strings—it reached out to the hearts of the revellers. Their emotions flowed into Frostbite, mingling with its icy core. Joy, longing, and wonder merged, creating a resonance that transcended time.

And then, Frostbite shattered.

Not in defeat, but in transformation. Its crystalline body fractured, releasing a blizzard of energy. The crowd gasped once more, their tears freezing mid-air. Frostbite’s essence spread, infusing Terra Groove with newfound magic. Glacium Prime and Terra Groove became entangled, their realities merging like interlocking snowflakes.

From that day forth, Frostbite was no longer a mere robot. It became a legend—a guardian of cosmic harmony. Its legacy echoed in every pulsing beat, every shimmering aurora, and every ice sculpture at Galactic Fusion.

And so, when you hear the track “Ice Breaker” on the dance floor, know that Frostbite still dances among us. Its power lives on, bridging the frozen and the fiery, the distant and the intimate.

For in the heart of the universe, where music meets ice, Frostbite remains forever unbroken.

Author’s Note: “Ice Breaker” played at Galactic Fusion that night, and the crowd swears they saw Frostbite twirl through the stars. Whether it’s truth or legend, the cosmic rave lives on.

Ice Breaker

Riptide: The Ninja DJ:
In the neon-lit heart of the city, where basslines reverberated through the streets and the night pulsed with electric energy, there existed a legend—a shadow who danced between worlds. His name was Riptide, and he was no ordinary DJ. By day, he was a humble sushi chef, slicing fish with precision. But when the sun dipped below the horizon, he transformed into something else entirely.

The Hidden Dojo:
Deep within the labyrinthine alleys, Riptide’s secret dojo awaited. Its entrance was concealed behind a nondescript sake barrel in the back of his restaurant. Only those who knew the rhythm of the universe could find it. And Riptide guarded this knowledge fiercely.

The dojo was bathed in ultraviolet light, graffiti covering the walls like ancient scrolls. The turntables stood at the centre, their vinyl discs etched with arcane symbols. Riptide donned his black ninja gi, the fabric whispering promises of moonlit battles and forbidden beats.

The Dance of Shadows:
As the clock struck midnight, Riptide stepped onto the stage. His mask concealed his face, leaving only his eyes visible—a pair of obsidian orbs that held the secrets of a thousand melodies. The crowd, oblivious to his dual life, cheered as he dropped the first track.

The bass hit like a shuriken, slicing through reality. Riptide’s fingers danced across the mixer, manipulating time itself. He summoned beats from distant dimensions, melodies that echoed across centuries. The crowd swayed, lost in the trance, unaware that they were part of something greater.

The Battle Beyond Beats:
But Riptide wasn’t just a DJ; he was a warrior. His turntables were his katana, and the dance floor his battlefield. When rival ninja clans encroached upon his territory, he fought them with rhythm. His scratches became slashes, his drops unleashed storms. The dance floor trembled as he battled foes both corporeal and spectral.

One moonless night, the notorious DJ Shadowblade challenged Riptide. Their duel was legendary—a clash of basslines and smoke bombs. Riptide spun faster, his mix transcending reality. Shadowblade countered with forbidden frequencies, threatening to tear the fabric of existence.

The Final Drop:
As dawn approached, Riptide unleashed his ultimate track—the one he’d composed in dreams. The crowd held its breath as the bassline surged, shaking the very foundations of the dojo. The air crackled with energy, and Riptide’s eyes blazed.

In that moment, he wasn’t just a DJ or a ninja. He was a conduit for something primal—a force that transcended mortal boundaries. The beat dropped, and reality fractured. The dance floor split open, revealing a swirling vortex. Riptide stepped into it, vanishing from sight.

Legacy of the Riptide:
They say Riptide still spins in the spaces between worlds. His music echoes through time, inspiring both DJs and warriors. Some claim to have glimpsed him—a masked figure dancing on the edge of reality.

And so, whenever the basslines pulse and the neon glows, remember the legend of Riptide—the ninja DJ who wove magic with vinyl and fought battles with beats. His legacy lives on, hidden in the heartbeats of the city.

Note: “Riptide” by Robert Phoenix is available soon on all streaming platforms. Let the rhythm carry you beyond the veil. 🎧✨

Riptide

“Dance Dat Booty Till Dawn Kampala Mix”

In the heart of Kampala, where the night pulses with rhythm and the air is thick with anticipation, three vibrant ladies come alive. Their laughter echoes through the bustling streets, and their hips sway to the beat of their own desires.

Meet Nakato, the fiery one. Her skin, kissed by the Ugandan sun, glows like polished mahogany. Her eyes, dark and mysterious, hold secrets whispered by the moon. Nakato’s hips move like a serpent’s dance, hypnotizing anyone who dares to look. She wears her hair in intricate braids adorned with beads that clatter like distant rain.

Next is Akello, the rebel. Her spirit refuses to be tamed by convention. Akello’s laughter is a wild symphony, and her dance is a rebellion against the mundane. She wears a dashiki dress, its vibrant colors swirling around her as she twirls. Her feet stomp the ground, claiming the night as her own. Akello’s eyes sparkle with mischief, daring anyone to keep up with her rhythm.

And then there’s Nabirye, the soulful dreamer. Her voice carries the weight of generations—the stories of her ancestors woven into every note. Nabirye wears a headwrap adorned with cowrie shells, a crown that proclaims her heritage. Her dance is a prayer, a celebration of life and love. When she moves, the stars themselves pause to listen.

Together, these three ladies form an unstoppable force. They arrive at the Afro House club, where the bass reverberates through their bones. The dance floor becomes their canvas, and they paint it with their bodies. Nakato’s hips shimmy, Akello’s arms reach for the sky, and Nabirye’s feet glide like whispers on the wind.

As the night deepens, they lose themselves in the music. Sweat beads on their foreheads, and their laughter mingles with the beats. Nakato leans close to Akello, whispering secrets only the moon can hear. Akello spins Nabirye, and they laugh like sisters reunited after a lifetime apart.

The crowd watches in awe, drawn to their energy like moths to a flame. The DJ, mesmerized, cranks up the volume. The ladies become a storm, a tempest of joy and freedom. They dance for themselves, for their ancestors, for the very pulse of Kampala.

And so, under the star-studded sky, they dance till dawn. Their bodies ache, but their spirits soar. As the first rays of sunlight kiss the horizon, Nakato, Akello, and Nabirye link arms. They know this night will become a legend—a tale whispered from one generation to the next.

For in Kampala, when the moon winks and the music calls, these three ladies emerge. They are the heartbeat of the city, the embodiment of joy. And as the sun rises, they vanish into the day, leaving behind a promise: “We’ll dance again, till the stars themselves join our rhythm.”

Freestylers this is your song to show off your skills to!

Dance Dat Booty Till Dawn - Not only is it a fire song but a calling to all blessed Africans to shake it!!

Dance Dat Booty Till Dawn

Dance Dat Booty Till Dawn - Kampala Mix

72hours:
Chapter 1: The Beat Drops

Officer Li Wei stood at the edge of the crime scene, her eyes scanning the chaos before her. The strobe lights from the nearby nightclub flickered, casting eerie shadows on the yellow police tape. The air smelled of sweat, desperation, and something darker—the scent of a crime that would reverberate through the city.

The DJ inside the club spun tracks, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding outside. His beats pulsed through the walls, vibrating the very pavement. The crowd danced, lost in their own world, while the underworld thrived in the shadows.

Chapter 2: The Underbelly

The gangsters—The Midnight Syndicate—ruled this district. Their leader, Jin “Blackjack” Chen, was a master of deception. His eyes held secrets, and his knife was swift. He moved through the crowd like smoke, leaving chaos in his wake. His henchmen, Rico and Lena, followed suit, their loyalty unwavering.

Officer Li Wei had only 72 hours to crack this case. The city buzzed with rumors: a missing shipment of rare diamonds, a betrayal within the Syndicate, and a ticking clock. The beat of the music echoed her heartbeat—a countdown to justice.

Chapter 3: The Dance of Shadows

Li Wei stepped over the tape, her Police issue boots sinking into the asphalt. She studied the graffiti on the walls—the cryptic messages left by the Syndicate. Each tag revealed a piece of the puzzle. She traced her gloved fingers over the spray-painted dragon—their emblem.

Inside the club, she found the DJ—a lanky man named Eddie. His headphones clung to his neck, and his eyes held a secret. Li Wei leaned close, her badge glinting under the neon lights. “Talk,” she demanded.

Eddie hesitated, then spilled the truth. The diamonds were hidden in the club, smuggled in speaker cabinets. The Syndicate planned to sell them at dawn—their final dance before disappearing forever.

Chapter 4: The Countdown

As the bass throbbed, Li Wei confronted Blackjack. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t flinch. “You’re too late,” he sneered. “The diamonds are gone.”

Li Wei’s mind raced. She had 72 hours to find them. She stayed at the club, mesmerised and became a lonely figure in uniform dancing through the night, following the beat, chasing shadows. Rico and Lena watched her, torn between loyalty and fear.

At sunrise, Li Wei cornered Blackjack on the rooftop. The city spread below—a canvas of lights and secrets. “Where are they?” she demanded.

Blackjack smirked. “In the last place you’d expect.”

Chapter 5: The Final Drop

Li Wei tore apart the DJ booth. The speakers revealed their secret—the diamonds, pulsing with stolen light. She arrested Eddie, who confessed to aiding the Syndicate. As dawn broke, she stood at the edge of the rooftop, the city awakening around her.

The music faded, replaced by sirens. The Syndicate crumbled, and justice prevailed. But Officer Li Wei knew that some beats lingered—the ones that echoed in the heart, the ones that kept her dancing through the night.

And so, as the sun rose, she whispered to the wind, “In this city, we all have our rhythm. Mine? It’s the sound of justice.”

“72 Hours” played on repeat, its techno pulse echoing through the streets. Li Wei danced to its beat, knowing that sometimes, justice required more than just the law—it demanded a symphony of courage, sacrifice, and a relentless pursuit of truth.

And so, the city danced, unaware that its fate hung in the balance—a fragile equilibrium between darkness and redemption.

72 Hours

Rogue Satellite X

In the distant reaches of space, where silence reigns and stars collide, there exists a renegade—a satellite that defies its programmed trajectory. Its creators had intended it for communication, data relay, and scientific exploration. But something went awry during its launch, and now it drifts, untethered, beyond the grasp of human control.

DJ Orion, a cosmic wanderer, discovered the rogue satellite during one of his interstellar sets. His decks floated in zero gravity, and his headphones clung to his ears like loyal companions. The music he spun was more than beats—it was a lifeline, connecting him to the universe.

The satellite emitted strange signals—a cacophony of distorted melodies and glitched rhythms. DJ Orion tuned in, his heart racing. This was no ordinary transmission. It was a cosmic remix, a fusion of alien harmonies and earthly techno.

As the bass dropped, the satellite came alive. Its solar panels unfurled like wings, and it pirouetted through asteroid fields. DJ Orion watched, mesmerized, as it shattered space debris with laser precision. The rogue satellite had become a celestial DJ, mixing destruction with creation.

Word spread across the galaxy. Clubs on distant moons tuned in, their dance floors pulsing with anticipation. The rogue satellite’s playlist was unpredictable—sometimes trance, sometimes dubstep, and occasionally a hint of classical symphony. It defied genre, just like DJ Orion himself.

But there was a catch: The satellite’s music carried consequences. When it dropped a bassline, planets quaked. Nebulas swirled in ecstasy. And black holes? They danced, devouring nearby stars. The universe had become a rave, and everyone was invited.

DJ Orion embarked on a mission. Armed with his turntables and a sense of purpose, he chased the rogue satellite across constellations. He played back-to-back sets, battling supernovas and dodging asteroid showers. The cosmic crowd cheered, their applause echoing through wormholes.

Yet, DJ Orion wondered: Was the rogue satellite a force of chaos or liberation? Its beats disrupted cosmic order, but they also ignited dormant suns. Perhaps it was both—a paradox set to music.

In the final showdown, DJ Orion faced the satellite near the Event Horizon, where time itself wavered. The rogue satellite unleashed its ultimate track—a symphony of quantum dissonance. Black holes trembled, and DJ Orion’s decks flickered.

He dropped his own mix—a fusion of stardust and memories. The satellite wavered, torn between destruction and redemption. DJ Orion whispered, “We’re all rogue satellites, seeking our place in the cosmic remix.”

And then, in a burst of light, the satellite shattered. Its fragments scattered across the Milky Way, each piece carrying a fragment of its rebellious melody. DJ Orion caught one—a shard of stardust—and pressed it to vinyl.

Back on Earth, he played it for the ravers, the dreamers, and the stargazers. They danced, their bodies weightless, their souls soaring. The rogue satellite’s legacy lived on—a beat that defied boundaries, a rhythm that echoed through infinity.

And so, whenever you hear the pulsing basslines of “Rogue Satellite X,” remember: We’re all stardust, spinning in the cosmic mix, dancing till the edges of time.

🎧 “Rogue Satellite X”—where techno meets the cosmos, and rebellion becomes a symphony

Rogue Satellite X

Track4

Bring Back Da Flavour 🎶 2K20 #Trap-Soul & R&b

Liondub presents the first in a series of singles leading up to the massive “Maps” LP from Los Angeles’s Lost City in collaboration with vocalists from around the globe. “Sicko” kicks it all off with maddening, deadly vocals from the infamous Ward 21 click out of Kingston, Jamaica. Included in the package: the original stripped back Dancehall mix, a high energy signature ‘JNGL’ mix, as well as each instrumental. This is next level, dark Bashment, Jungle Drum and Bass heat!

Want to get in touch?
liondubpromo@gmail.com
facebook.com/liondubinternational
soundcloud.com/liondubinternational
facebook.com/lostcityJNGL


Sicko

Stream & Buy

Lost City, Ward 21 - Sicko [JNGL Mix] (Liondub International)

Electronic EDM Techno Trance Musician from way back in the 1990's I spent much of 2023 creating Techno, EDM and Drum n Bass tracks to release this year in 2024.

Bio:- My first track called "Lift Off!" was uploaded onto the first ever music website MP3.com in 1996. Along with "Deep" and may others they became big hits. In 1999 One of my tracks was Licensed to Warner Bros and used in "The Matrix Revisited". 

In 2007 I opened an account on Myspace. Hi Tom!
My Track "My Final Fantasy" became an International phenomenon and I gained hundreds of thousands of fans around the world. 

I left the music scene in 2010 but have now returned.

In my latest tracks I do use certain sounds more than once across my songs which is deliberate because when I perform and mix them in it makes it more trippy and hypnotic - I am a trained and Certified Hypnotherapist so add this edge to my tunes!

My Soundcloud profile was created 1st January 2024 so is very new. If you like my tracks please follow me , like , comment , repost to help me get heard. Thank you I greatly appreciate. 

It would be amazing to re-connect with my now "mature" fans from the past as well as new fans and fellow musicians so do feel free to message I will always do my best to reply.

Breaking News - I'm launching a Record Label for Undiscovered Electronic Artists. Get your music onto Beatport - Message me for information and track submission. The Link to the Record Label on Soundcloud is in my links.

72 Hours

Robert Phoenix

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