Yuh.
From Lekki to London, we dey spin —
No border fit block the dream.
(Ayy, spin it, spin it…)

Passport heavy, my soul got stamps,
Each scar glow when the flash lamp snaps.
Drip no fashion — this survival wear,
every line a visa, every bar airfare.
I touch base then vanish, ghost on the grid,
Mom still pray, “boy, don’t forget where you did.”
Worlds on loop, I’m the glitch that lived,
From third floor flats to the gold coast crib.
I seen Lagos sun, I seen London frost,
same chain, new name, but I count the cost.
Drill in the blood, afro in the feet,
I dance through the pain, make the pain sound sweet.

Around the worlds, we don’t sleep, we spin.
Light flash cold, but the heat stay in.
Around the worlds, still fight, still grin,
Different flags, same hustle within.
Around the worlds, my soul been twin,
Lost and found, still born to win.
Around the worlds, no line too thin,
I move through shade with the fire in skin.

Time zone flip, my phone still ring,
DMs talk like prophecy thing.
They see jet-lag, I see proof,
grind so global, I bend the truth.
Border patrol can’t scan my mode,
I built this lane from the upload code.
Drill snare cut, afro clap bless,
hybrid flow make the continent flex.
She ask “where you from?” I said “depends,”
mind in Jo’burg, body in Thames.
Dreams in naira, rent in pounds,
carry two hearts, one never drowns.

Around the worlds, we don’t sleep, we spin.
Light flash cold, but the heat stay in.
Around the worlds, still fight, still grin,
Different flags, same hustle within.
Around the worlds, my soul been twin,
Lost and found, still born to win.
Around the worlds, no line too thin,
I move through shade with the fire in skin.

Plane food cold, verse still hot,
customs wave, “sir, what you got?”
I got dreams in a carry-on bag,
beats, receipts, and a homeland tag.
Every airport mirror say the same,
“you left too much, but you gained your name.”
My team online, my fam offline,
still link up when the stars align.
From Brixton blocks to Abidjan nights,
every beat another birthright.
Spin that globe, see scars and gold,
story sold but the soul not sold.

(Yeah-yeah, spin it round)
Different worlds, same drum sound.
(Yeah-yeah, hold it down)
From dirt roads to underground.
Voices blend, we cross and climb,
borderlines fade with the rhyme.
Every loop, another sign,
same sky — different time.

Around the worlds, we don’t sleep, we spin.
Light flash cold, but the heat stay in.
Around the worlds, still fight, still grin,
Different flags, same hustle within.
Around the worlds, my soul been twin,
Lost and found, still born to win.
Around the worlds, no line too thin,
I move through shade with the fire in skin.

Transmission clear — wherever we land,
same beat, same brand.
Around the worlds… still man.

Around the worlds (Afrobeats Drill Rap reload)

Yebo… yebo…
Drums talk, streets hum,
Still breathing, still numb.

Chrome sun on the taxi glass,
bassline knocks, memories pass.
Hood boys laugh, but the eyes don’t shine,
every payday looks like a fine.
Mama call, signal drop,
same old hustle, never stop.
Data done, mind offline,
scroll for peace I’ll never find.
Every day same beat, same smoke,
city don’t heal, it just choke.
I write bars on airtime loans,
hope on pause, dream postponed.

It don’t get better at all,
Skrr in the rain, still fall.
It don’t get better at all,
heart on mute, I stall.
It don’t get better at all,
beat sweet, pain tall.
It don’t get better at all,
move slow, still crawl.

Wi-Fi ghost, girl gone cold,
same story, copy-paste soul.
Club lights heal for a minute or two,
till the groove fade out, and it’s me, not you.
Block hot, cops park, youth dance anyway,
ain’t hope, just delay.
Cashapp ping, short joy,
next day broke, same boy.
I spit code, system glitch,
piano drop, switch by switch.
I stay calm, skin tight,
fake smile for the algorithm’s light.

It don’t get better at all,
I rise, still ready to fall.
It don’t get better at all,
bass deep, I talk to the wall.
It don’t get better at all,
city gold, my heart small.
It don’t get better at all,
dance slow, still crawl.

Bzzt—crash, mind reboot,
piano hum like a prayer mute.
Ghost in the mirror blink twice,
tell me pain got a price.
Dark horizon pull again,
drums whisper, “same pain.”
I move, I move, I fall,
no light, no call.

Studio smoke, mic hiss,
every verse like a confession list.
Homies gone, some just fade,
names carved in a street parade.
I chase calm through the sound,
808 in my chest pound.
DJ drop my ghost on stage,
I rap the end of every age.
It’s not hope, it’s habit now,
I spit truth they don’t allow.
System crash, new build fail,
still alive, post-hail.
If there’s peace, I missed the call,
still here, that’s all.

It don’t get better at all,
Skrr in the rain, still fall.
It don’t get better at all,
heart on mute, I stall.
It don’t get better at all,
beat sweet, pain tall.
It don’t get better at all,
move slow, still crawl.
It don’t get better at all,
sun up, same wall.
It don’t get better at all,
I rap till I dissolve.

Signal weak.
Still speak.
Never better — never done.

It don’t get better at all (Amapiano Rap reload)

When my demons take control
And all I have to hold
Is you
My love
And I

When my heartbeat's slowin' down

In my nightmare
I'm not afraid
'Cause you're with me
In my nightmare
I'm not afraid
'Cause I'm with you

Et si je restais pour toujours dans ce rêve ? 
tu resterais ? 
Dis moi
mais tu n'es pas réel

In my nightmare
I'm not afraid
'Cause you're with me
Dans mon cauchemar
Je n'ai pas peur
Parce que tu es avec moi

Je n'ai pas peur
Parce que tu es avec moi
N'aies pas peur,
Je suis là

In my nightmare
I'm not afraid
'Cause you're with me
Dans mon cauchemar
Je n'ai pas peur
Parce que tu es avec moi

In My Nightmare

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 #Syncopated Percussion Layers