I'm Runnin' from myself no more -  @beyonce   

The Beyhive anticipates Queen Bey's 6th & last show in London as she prepares for 🇫🇷 Hive, ticking off the first of her 2 Europe destinations.

The London series has proven to be the most eclectic setlist, and performer roster. What will the dates in France bring?

This REMIX will join my Beyoncé & 2025 playlist on YouTube — celebrating her uber successful, COWBOY CARTER TOUR

🎶 ORIGINAL: @naughtyboymusic &  @beyonce  | Runnin'
🎵 INSTRUMENTAL:  @beyonce  | ALIEN SUPERSTAR & I Was Here
🎧 MASHUP:  @JulianMaea   
📝 WRITING:  @beyonce  , @naughtyboymusic & Arrow Benjamin  
🎹 PRODUCTION:  Ryan Tedder & @honeydijon

Support artists. Support original music.
COWBOY CARTER is out now on all platforms!

#beyoncé #beyonce #cowboycarter #cowboycartertour #renaissanceworldtour #renaissance #RnB #Pop #Mashup #Remix #JulianMaea #country #tottenham #bday #tottenhamhotspurstadium #aliensuperstar #thique #LGBT #iwashere #uk #00s #blueivy #london #matriarch #bonnieandclyde #formation #tinaknowles #france #otrii

Runnin' • ALIEN SUPERSTAR • I Was Here | Beyoncé | COWBOY CARTER MASHUP by JulianMaea ​

🖋 I don’t write to feel better. I write so the ghosts have something to lean on.

“The Ink Don’t Lie” is not a track—it’s a reckoning.
A slow-burn spoken memoir built from broken homes, quiet grief, and questions no one else thought to ask.
This piece doesn’t try to heal. It honours the wound.
Rain-soaked memories. Papered silence. Love you still flinch for.

It’s the weight of a life lived off-script.
The sound of someone writing just to stay shaped.

🎙️ Spoken word / confessional poetry
🫀 For the listeners who’ve memorised exits
🕯 The truth lives here—quiet, curled in ink

You can burn the letter. But the truth stays warm.

The ink don’t lie

💔 We all walk round with bags of rain…

“No One Says It First” is a soft-spoken anthem for the ones who carry storms behind smiles.
It’s for every quiet ache scrolled past, every mask worn too well, every heart that just wanted someone to say it first.

This track is about showing up—not perfectly, but honestly.
With tender verses, layered harmonies, and lyrics that sit in the silence instead of trying to fix it.

🎙️ Soulful indie-folk meets poetic pop
🫀 Vulnerable. Real. Undeniably human.
✨ Because every heart on this red earth is beating just to speak.

You don’t have to save anyone. Just stay.

No one says it first

🚗 Just a farm boy ghost in a Kingswood dream.

“P-Plates & Daydreams” is the anthem of every wide-sky wanderer stuck between horsepower and head noise.
A Beechworth backroad ballad with burrs in its boots and ghosts in the glovebox.
Rapped like a yarn, burned like red dust in your lungs—this track don’t just drive, it drifts.

🎙️ Country rap meets bush poetry
🧢 Dust, sweat, and a cracked Akubra
💭 For the overthinkers, the underdogs, and the ones still chasin’ whatever it is

You don’t need answers when the road’s still open.

P-Plates & Daydreamzzz

🔥 You built your fences. The land just laughed.
“The Land Remembers” is not a song—it’s a reckoning.
A spoken-word war cry stitched with fire, flood, spirit, and soil.
It walks with thylacines, mourns with rivers, and bleeds the names we tried to bury.

This track blends ancestral chant with rap, bush poetics with beat-driven prophecy.
For every scar buried beneath progress, the land hums back:
It never dies.

🎙️ Spoken word × Rap × Echoed chant
🪨 Elements: fire, dust, memory, sky
🌀 Themes: colonisation, survival, silence, sovereignty

The map may change. (Whoever) The land remembers.


🪩 I don’t walk—I stage a catwalk through the night.
“Boots and a Jacket” is a strut-track for the bold, the unbothered, and the overdressed.
This one’s all flex—mud-slick boots, op-shop flair, and small-town runways turned mythic.

Equal parts Aussie bravado and fashion gospel, it turns gravel into glitter and jackets into armour.

🎙️ Rap-meets-glam anthem
👢 Iconic boots. Platonic jackets.
💅 Loud. Proud. No filter.
Say it with me: Damn.

Damn (boots & jacket)

🌄 Not just land—it’s his oath.
“Hundred Acres” is a love song for the backbone of the bush.
A story built from sunrises, diesel smoke, and the kind of grit that doesn’t need to shout.
No fame, no fanfare—just two hands, callused years, and the land that remembers him.

Country folk meets narrative rap.
A dog at the gate. Mud on the boots.
This one’s for the makers, the doers, the quiet keepers of land and legacy.

🎙️ Country–rap fusion
🐾 Aussie farmland energy
🛠️ Real work, real heart, real home

He doesn’t own the land. He is the land.

Hundred acres

🎰 We’re the only mob with a day off to punt…

“Countin’ Your Luck” is a backroom anthem for a nation numbed by flashing lights and empty promises.
A chant for every bloke with his pension in a machine, every school sweep, every scratched ticket passed like communion.

This isn’t just about gambling—it’s about what we’ve learned to call tradition.
Spoken word meets chant-core. Footy scores as scripture.
Fascinators, flutter, and quiet ruin.

🎙️ Satirical, honest, and unapologetically Australian
💸 Rap verses, group chants, pub-borne truths
🪙 Hope spun like a coin—and just as cruel

Luck ain’t loyal. But the pokies don’t care.

Counting your luck

🌾 The land is quiet here... but it remembers.

“The Land Remembers” is a slow-burning ballad of rust, roots, and reckoning.
A boy, a brim, a fading orchard—haunted not by ghosts, but by memory in the soil.
Every verse holds breath like heat. Every chorus hums with what’s been lost... and what still lingers.

🎙️ Narrative folk with atmospheric weight
🔥 Grief woven through silence and sun
🪶 A mother’s scent. A land that sings. A story not yet done.

This isn’t just a song—it’s a place.

The land is quiet here

🌙 You didn’t come from love… but you gave it like light.

This is a love letter stitched in silence, supper, and second chances.
It’s not just about a mother—it’s about the kind of love that never needed to announce itself.
Lullabies made from instinct. Forgiveness in a laugh.
No crown, no verse. Just grace in the ordinary.

🎙️ Male vocal ballad with poetic depth
🛏️ Storytelling layered with memory and melody
💔 From muddy feet to late-night forgiveness—this is how love sounds when it's real

For every woman who mothered without a blueprint.
For every boy who finally heard the song behind the noise.

🌫️ Mask on. Mask off. Still... you are the rhythm.

“Stillness” is not a song. It’s a breath.
Spoken word meets upright bass, jazz harmony, and low-burning truth.
It floats between sound and silence, between trauma and transcendence.
A story without heroes. A vibe that hums even when the world shuts up.

🎤 Male rap x female jazz vocals
🌀 Spoken-word outro with bush ambience
🎷 Still. Empty. Alive.

If you’ve ever found yourself in the pause...
this one’s already in you.


Still

💥 Rad luck. Sad fuck. Still rise.

“Rad Luck, Sad Fuck” is the anthem for the bruised and unbroken.
It’s stitched from near-misses, Coles cakes, Centrelink queues, and servo lights at 3am.
Rap meets real life in bars that bleed and echo with ghosted mates, broken mirrors, and cracked pride.

Spoken word intros.
Call-and-response hooks.
Verses that don’t flinch.

🎤 Male rap x female echoes
🔥 Lyrical, guttural, unfiltered
💔 This isn’t self-pity—it’s self-possession.

You can’t lose if you don’t play.
But some of us play anyway.

Sad f**k

⚡ No retreat. No receipt.
This one’s for the busted mirrors, servo prophets, and alleyway anthems.
“Nailed to the Beat” isn’t clean, isn’t calm—it’s a burn mark you chose to keep.

Rap verses laced with punk soul.
Female chorus that bites back.
Every stomp is rhythm. Every lyric, a busted truth in boots.

📻 No pause. No plan.
🎤 This is noise made sacred by those who never asked for permission.
If you’ve ever kissed the chaos just to feel something real—
you’ve already been nailed to the beat.

Nailed to the beat

🌫 Before birds sang. Before light broke. There was this.

“Quintessence” is a five-voiced meditation:
the Self, the Land, the Lost One, Time, and the Universe—
each whispering through silence what words can barely hold.

This isn’t a song. It’s an invocation.
Steam from a forgotten cup. A breath beneath the soil.
A soul crossing fences of memory and myth.

Guitar carries the echo.
Stillness carries the weight.
What remains is not proof—but presence.

🎙️ Spoken verses, ambient strings, ghosted harmony.
🔭 A slow reveal of all we are when we stop asking.

You are not broken.
You are Quintessence.

Quintessence

🚫 No signal. No script. Just the sound inside.

“Runnin’ with the Radio Off” is a road anthem for the untamed.
A backseat prayer whispered through smoke and tyre dust.
It’s got sparks in its lungs, ghosts in the glovebox,
and a chorus that won’t shut up—
even when the dial’s turned down.

🚘 Rap collides with soul.
🔥 Female vocals lead the fire.
⚡ Beats in the blood.
This is for the ones who don’t wait for permission to make noise.

If you've ever screamed at the sky, kissed the dark,
or lit your own way through static—this one’s yours.

Runnin'

🔥 You mad? Good. That means it’s working.
This ain’t a diss track—it’s a mirror.
Glitch gospel. Protest poetry. Chant-core with teeth.

“U Mad” is a callout and a confession.
It’s for the ones ghosted by systems but too loud to vanish.
Rap meets riot. Chant meets catharsis.
Voicemail bridges. Anthem drops. Truth with grit.

🎤 Written by Gawzy 
🚫 No genre. No permission. Just impact.

If it makes you twitch—you heard it right.

U mad?

💭 What if the path wasn’t broken… just bending toward wild?

This track is a barefoot skip off the map.
Rap meets spoken word, folk meets funk, and the weird walks free.
Written in mud, moss, and sideways grins—
“Back to Wild” is for the ones who lost the plot and found a better story.

📍 No grid. No grind. Just punchline frogs, pinecone crowns,
and a mixtape made from two left feet.

🌀 Lyrics, beats, bark-side dreams by Gawzy
🎤 Featuring female harmonies and spoken rap verses
🌿 Produced with Suno AI • Genre-bent, trail-grown

📡 Let the algorithm wonder. We’re busy talking to beetles.

Back to wild

A solo party anthem for the anxious, the overthinkers, and the ones who stayed home but still brought the vibe.

Equal parts funny and fragile, Party of One grooves through lo-fi beats, kitchen dance floors, and conversations with your dog.

For anyone who's ghosted a group chat, danced with doubt, or found peace in silence.

R.I.P. to the mates who never made it to the afterparty—you mattered.

🎧 Headphones on. World off.

Party of one

“Not the loudest in the room, just the one who heard the beat first.”
This one’s for the hoodie in the corner, the solo dancer, the ones who show up without a crew but leave with a story.
A party anthem for the misfits.
A chant for the quiet that got loud.
Weird is welcome. Strange is sacred.
🧃🪩 Alone, Together—press play, stomp the floor, don’t apologise for feeling it.

Alone, together

Producer  || Creator


Two shadows in the rain. One mask, one name. Truth behold, the alluvial gold.

DJ + Producer | Mashups + Remixes of your faves 🔥

New tracks tagged #Runnin&#x27;

New tracks tagged #Runnin'