Alin Dragan @ DanceFm Weekend Mood 29.05.2022

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)

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THE BREEZE By AlexUnder Base @ C FM #149 [Soundcloud]

Adrian Eftimie - 12.09 @ Vibe FM

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.

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

Terminalose

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