“Initiate sequence — frequency on one drop.”

Inside the lab where riddims grow,
We plant the groove and let it glow.
Electric herbs and vinyl spores,
Breathing sound through open doors.
Glass tubes bubbling with delay,
We test the pulse in bright array.
From root to bass, from dust to spark,
The mojo rises through the dark.

Mix it, fix it — the mojo reacts!
Bass in the beaker, fire in the tracks!
Turn up the heat — Jah’s in the lab!

Conductors hum beneath the floor,
Every wire a cosmic score.
We spin equations, melt the time,
Distill the groove, compress the rhyme.
The faders glow, the smoke expands,
Jah’s voltage flows through mortal hands.

Mix it, fix it — the mojo reacts!
Bass in the beaker, fire in the tracks!
Turn up the heat — Jah’s in the lab!

Switch off the light — we trace the sound,
In every atom, the roots are found.
Skank in the circuit, dub in the core,
The mojo mutates, becomes something more.

Mix it, fix it — the mojo reacts!
Bass in the beaker, fire in the tracks!
Turn up the heat — Jah’s in the lab!

“Observation: rhythm replicates under pressure.
Sample integrity confirmed.
Subject: human soul, version 2.0.”

We feed the current back through the mind,
The riddim bends but stays aligned.
Heatwaves pulse in steady streams,
Soundwaves blur into lucid dreams.
In the lab, creation sings alive.

Mix it, fix it — the mojo reacts!
Bass in the beaker, fire in the tracks!
Turn up the heat — Jah’s in the lab

Jah’s in the lab

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.

Jah’s in the lab

Terminalose