Skrr skrr, o batla smoke?
Yah, ke di champs tsa block!
Haibo—sound ke Bacardi!

Ga skrr skrr! — we don’t stop!
Township bass make body pop!
Shake that floor, ke di boss!
Pretoria loud, ga re drop soft!

Lepara mode, di shades ka night,
Khaphela groove, no fight — just vibe.
Di chomi tsa Stru, ba di flex ka price,
Sho! — ke Starboy, not nice.

Tsa Mamelodi go Sunnyside,
We plug that line — no Wi-Fi.
S’phanda le beat, we baptize,
Street talk, no cap, just size.

Ga skrr skrr! — we don’t stop!
Township bass make body pop!
Shake that floor, ke di boss!
Pretoria loud, ga re drop soft!

Aowa! (Yah!)
O mang? (Re tsa North!)
O tsamaya kae? (Re block to block!)
Aowa! (Yah!)
O mang? (Re tsa North!)
Re Bacardi talk!

Sound e lepara — military snare,
Bass e tsoma — re tlo tlala air.
Hands up! — lepara flare,
Pretoria heat, ga re care.

Ga skrr skrr! — we don’t stop!
Township bass make body pop!
Shake that floor, ke di boss!
Pretoria loud, ga re drop soft!

Ga skrr skrr! — wave that flag!
Dust on kicks, no Gucci tag.
Re lepara, streets don’t lag,
Bacardi groove — that’s the brag!

Heh!
Skrr skrr... Pretoria sound.
Re groove ka dust, re crown the ground.

Make body pop (Bacardi House reload)

Slow wine, soft light.
No rush — pure vibe.
I move gentle, still wild inside.

Palm breeze on my skin, steady.
City loud, but my soul no heavy.
I no be trophy, I no be ready-made,
I write my name with the gold I laid.

Eyes clear, spirit on code,
Low tone, still I run the road.
If you feel me, move in time,
No cage — only sky to find.

If e pure, then e stay.
If e force, make e fade away.
My pace, my way,
I choose love, I choose day.

My mind dey on you — slow.
My mind dey on you — glow.
If heart talk true, we go.
If no be peace, I go.

Soft power, real power.
Calm thunder, sweet fire.

Touch clean, talk small — meaning plenty.
Highlife chords make the night feel friendly.
I’m nobody’s saint, still holy in truth,
I guard my joy like proof.

No long text wey dey drain my shine,
If you step correct, we align.
I fit be quiet, but my dream loud,
I dance soft, still lead the crowd.

If e pure, then e stay.
If e force, make e fade away.
My pace, my way,
I choose love, I choose day.

My mind dey on you — slow.
My mind dey on you — glow.
If heart talk true, we go.
If no be peace, I go.

Ɔdɔ no yɛ dɛ, me kra gye,
Bra na yentwa no, no delay.
Meda me ho so, me ho yɛ,
If dem doubt, make dem pray.

— Who hold the light? (Me, inside.)
— Who set the pace? (Me, I decide.)
— What be the rule? (Peace as guide.)
— If e no fit flow? (Step aside.)

My mind dey on you — slow.
My mind dey on you — glow.
No mask, no show,
Real love — we grow.

Moon low, heart high.
I move free — I no lie.
Mind dey glow… all night.

My pace (Ghana Alt Soul reload)

Doors swing wide, the wave consumes the light
In the neon haze, we search for something right

Crowd surges like a tide beneath the ceiling high
Spotlights carve the aisle, a grave of glow in the night
Flat screens shimmering, a frontline in our eyes
We bleed for pixels, under blackout skies
Midnight riot ‘neath the price tags lost and found
Bodies hit the floor, in the echo of the sound
Shopping carts like ghosts across a metal stampede
Greed in our veins, adrenaline the seed

We bleed for pixels, claw for the beam
In the silent war of wants, we chase the dream
Flat screens lining aisles like battlefield light
Black Friday turns angels into a fighting team
And all we want is to feel alive
In the echo of the sale, we survive

Box cutters flash like hidden steel beneath the glare
Wallets stay empty, yet the rage is everywhere
Broken displays on tired tile floors whisper the cost
Some fight for the screen, others fight for what they lost
Sunrise when the damage is done, bruises count the price
Victory hollow when you see the light but lose the night
Tape on the floor marks where our shadows fell
Yet the hunger restarts, the story we still tell

We bleed for pixels, claw for the beam
In the silent war of wants, we chase the dream
Flat screens lining aisles like battlefield light
Black Friday turns angels into a fighting team
And all we want is to feel alive
In the echo of the sale, we survive

Neon flickers on abandoned carts,
Price tags fade yet the craving restarts
Screens in bags but the eyes remain lost
We fought for a glow that won’t fill the cost
And when the signs reset, we’ll fall in line
Another long night, another sale we buy

We bleed for pixels, claw for the beam
In the silent war of wants, we chase the dream
Flat screens lining aisles like battlefield light
Black Friday turns angels into a fighting team
In the echo of the sale, we survive
We bleed for pixels, just to feel alive

We bleed for pixels (Indie Pop reload)

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

New tracks tagged #Layered Vocal Chops