This track is part of a 20-track Eurodance anthology — spanning from Italo origins to neo-revivals — built to push immersive 3D audio to its limits, turning nostalgia and night energy into a fully spatial club experience.
Cold light.


Heavy spine.
No rest.

Alarm hits.
Bones crack.
Stand slow.
No track.

Push the floor.
Beat is war.

Back pain, daylight —
Dark pulse, no fight.
Used to rise at eight —
Now I crawl too late.

Coffee burn.
Nerves scream.
No turn.
No dream.

Push the floor.
Beat is war.

Back pain, daylight —
Dark pulse, no fight.
Used to rise at eight —
Now I crawl too late.

Break me.
Shake me.
Bassline owns me.
Spin me.
Burn me.
Dark beat drives me.

Back pain, daylight —
Dark pulse, no fight.
Used to rise at eight —
Now I crawl too late.

Morning… Pain…
Morning… Pain…

Beat is war

Reversed
Emission without intake

Singularity output
Entropy inversion
Temporal reversa

All trajectories move outward
No horizon can be crossed
Every signal points away

Radiation streams,
Repulsive gravity, 
symmetry release
Unstoppable outburst
cosmic energy

Equations of relativity
Solutions of Einstein
Matter expelled 

Outflow only
Geodesics break apart
Past and future disconnected

Radiation streams, 
acceleration free
Repulsive gravity, 
symmetry release
Unstoppable outburst, 
cosmic energy

Beyond causality, 
beyond return
Pure divergence, 
spacetime burns

Radiation streams, 
acceleration free
Repulsive gravity, 
symmetry release
Unstoppable outburst, 
cosmic energy

Radiation streams

Ayy … who count the gold, who sell the gun ?
Same suit, new sun.
We know the name — C-I-A, huh.

They smile with aid, hide blade in file,
logo clean but the game so vile.
New road, new base, same style,
map redraw while they sip exile.
From Kin to Dakar they move in code,
satellite eyes on the dirt road.
Tell our youth “dream big, go learn,”
then buy the land when the souls return.
Oil smell, data sale, same plan,
you call it peace, we call it scan.
Pockets deep, flag high, they preach trust,
but we see dust under that gloss.

C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
no visa, still they travel farther.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
we build, they wire transfer.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
front page clean, back door darker.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
we see the smile behind the charger.

Contracts sweet like mango talk,
then boom — they own the block.
Drone above, mic in rock,
culture stream, market stock.
They push the beat, we push the drum,
same rhythm, different sum.
My brother code, they trace his thumb,
call it “safety,” we call it “come.”
NGO – spyware blend,
every loan got string at end.
History spin, same trend,
they fund the fire, then pretend.

C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
no visa, still they travel farther.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
we build, they wire transfer.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
front page clean, back door darker.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
we see the smile behind the charger.

They say “partnership,” we say “deal,”
they bring the pen, we bring the field.
Gold in box, story sealed,
truth offline, vibe real.
From Bamako nights to Lagos rain,
every promise come with chain.
Young kings still code their pain,
beat knock loud — that’s campaign.
We remix fear into sound,
new world born underground.
Spy satellite can’t track that pound,
‘cause spirit strong, still homebound.

(Ayy … we see … we know …)
Paper fly, flag wave slow,
agent smile in Ankara show.
They film the vibe, they sell the glow,
Africa rise, they copy flow.
But roots don’t leak, drums don’t lie,
dust still talk when the wire run dry.
We stay loud till the power sigh,
truth don’t sleep, even if they spy.

C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
no visa, still they travel farther.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
we build, they wire transfer.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
front page clean, back door darker.
C.I.A — Cash In Africa,
we see the smile behind the charger.

Satellite blink, network fade,
still the drum loud in the shade.
C.I.A… cash in Africa —
but Africa paid.


C.I.A : Cash In Africa (Afro Trap Rap 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 #polyrhythmic percussion