35 reloaded tracks from my latest monthly creations — an anthology of hot hip hop trends. From cloud and plugg to MENA rap, Sigilkore rap, French plugg : each cut flips my originals into raw, underground energy built for SoundCloud discovery and replay.

HIP HOP FUTURE

Ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh
J’fais trembler ton mood-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh
Trop sale
Ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh
J’fais trembler ton mood-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh
(Mmh, douceur sauvage)

Bébé j’suis rouge, pas morte,
C’est juste la lune qui m’fait escorte.
Tu dis “attends”, moi j’dis “avance”,
Y’a rien d’sale dans la transe.
Bébé j’suis rouge, pas morte,
C’est juste la lune qui m’fait escorte.
Tu dis “attends”, moi j’dis “avance”,
Y’a rien d’sale dans la transe. (boss mode)

Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Peau sucrée, feu sans raison.
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.
Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Peau sucrée, feu sans raison.
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.

Ouais, j’suis good, même rouge vif,
Y’a qu’les lâches qui trouvent ça nocif.
J’fais pas semblant, j’fais naturel,
J’peins le monde en couleur réelle.
Tes potes parlent, moi j’suis silence,
Beauté brute, pas d’apparence.
Tu veux du vrai ? Viens sans peur,
J’suis cyclone et douceur.

Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Peau sucrée, feu sans raison.
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.
Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Peau sucrée, feu sans raison.
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.

Trop sale
Ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh
J’fais trembler ton mood-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh
Trop sale
Ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh, ouh
J’fais trembler ton mood-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh-ouh (boss mode)

Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Peau sucrée, feu sans raison.
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.
Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Peau sucrée, feu sans raison.
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.

Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
Afro baby, j’kiffe ma saison,
J’suis marée haute, corps en tension,
Si t’assumes pas, change de maison.


Bébé j’suis rouge, pas morte (Afro French Rap reload)

Tell me…
When did your fire fade?
When did your spirit trade its pulse for silence?
You still breathing… or just remembering how?

I see bones that learned to smile,
Eyes rehearsing life in trial,
Hands that move but never feel,
Heartbeat hummin’ something unreal.
You’ve been hiding in this shell,
Echo livin’ under spell,
Chasin’ warmth you can’t restore,
Knockin’ loud on heaven’s door — no faith, just metaphor.

Rise up, breathe again,
Not for promise, not for sin.
You were buried in your own skin,
Now rise up, breathe again.
Not for saviors, not for signs,
Just to feel the blood align.
You were lost beneath the grime,
Now rise up — redefine.

Mirror cracked but still it waits,
Shows the ghost you imitate.
Shadow gone, but light don’t care,
You keep walkin’ nowhere.
All those voices in your head,
Ain’t demons — just the things you said.
Every lie became a prayer,
Every silence built your lair.

Wake up, break the chain,
Feel the thunder in your vein.
You don’t need a holy name,
Just the courage to remain.
No more ashes, no disguise,
See the storm behind your eyes.
Let the dust become your sign,
Rise again, this breath is mine.

Tell me, ghost, what’s your scent?
Ash and fear, or innocent?
You wore death like second skin,
But forgot where life begins.
You ain’t cursed, you just numb,
Forgot the sound of your own drum.
Still time to shake the grave’s control,
Still time to make your spirit whole.

Stand up, breathe again,
Not for mercy, not for men.
You were buried deep within,
Now stand up, breathe again.
Not for heaven, not for throne,
Just to stand, to be your own.
Every ghost can find its tone,
Rise up, reclaim your bones.

Ooh, breathe deep — feel the dust fall.
Ooh, wake up — hear your own call.
No preacher, no psalm, no chain, no law —
Just the truth that you still raw.

Rise up, breathe again,
Not for promise, not for sin.
You were buried in your own skin,
Now rise up, breathe again.
Not for heaven, not for crown,
Just to turn this life around.
You were lost, but now you’ve found,
Your own pulse — your own sound.

You ain’t dead.
You just forgot what living felt like.
So say it — not if, not maybe — when.
When you start again.

Rise up, breathe again (Gospel Rap reload)

Suena la tierra bajo mis pies,
el tambor respira, el futuro me ve.
No soy pasado ni mañana,
bailo en el filo, carne y programa.

Nací donde el humo y el ritmo se juntan,
calles calientes, bocinas que apuntan.
El cuero hablaba antes del micro,
el bajo curaba, el cuerpo era litio.
Viejos coros me vieron crecer,
con el pulso que no deja de morder.
Ahora el beat es digital,
pero mi alma sigue tropical.
La sangre suena en cuatro por cuatro,
no importa el plugin, importa el trato.
Yo cargo el barrio dentro del pecho,
cada compás me devuelve el derecho.
Del vinilo al código binario,
de la esquina al escenario.
El tambor nunca se fue,
solo aprendió inglés en la red.

Yo vengo de raíz, pero miro adelante,
mi sombra baila, mi mente vibrante.
No soy del ayer ni del porvenir,
bailo en el medio, dejo fluir.
Raíces queman, futuro llama,
cada paso enciende mi llama.
Bajo el neón o bajo el sol,
yo cargo ritmo, no perdón.

Viejos fantasmas viven en mi loop,
me dicen “mijo, no pierdas el groove”.
Yo les contesto con 808,
la historia suena, el tiempo no late.
Abuelo tocaba sin conexión,
yo mezclo el alma con la tensión.
La piel recuerda aunque cambie el son,
cada pixel lleva tradición.
Del polvo al club, la cadena no muere,
solo muta, solo hiere.
No hay nostalgia, hay respeto,
por cada cuerpo que sudó el concreto.
Mis pasos son código y sudor,
mi voz, memoria y motor.
El beat respira, el cuerpo grita,
la tierra vibra, la pista cita.

Yo vengo de raíz, pero miro adelante,
mi sombra baila, mi mente vibrante.
No soy del ayer ni del porvenir,
bailo en el medio, dejo fluir.
Raíces queman, futuro llama,
cada paso enciende mi llama.
Bajo el neón o bajo el sol,
yo cargo ritmo, no perdón.

No busco templo ni redención,
mi fe está hecha de percusión.
Cada error me hizo compás,
cada caída, tempo y paz.
El barrio aún suena cuando duermo,
mi pulso viaja, nunca enfermo.
Entre el polvo y la señal,
bailo libre, ritual vital.
No soy copia, soy traducción,
de fuego viejo a revolución.
El mundo cambia, yo también,
pero el tambor sigue en mi piel.
Cuando el futuro me quiera tragar,
yo le bailo hasta quemar.

Yo vengo de raíz, pero miro adelante,
mi sombra baila, mi mente vibrante.
No soy del ayer ni del porvenir,
bailo en el medio, dejo fluir.
Raíces queman, futuro llama,
cada paso enciende mi llama.
Bajo el neón o bajo el sol,
yo cargo ritmo, no perdón.

No soy del ayer ni del porvenir (Reggaeton Rap reload)

빛이 역전돼, 시간은 토해,
중력 밀어, reality sway.
No intake, only burst,
singularity flips, universe cursed.
공간의 상처, 반대로 펴,
방정식은 울고, 나는 커.

특이점 거꾸로, 블랙의 반대,
슈바르츠실트, 두 세계의 매개.
좌표 U V, 뒤집힌 선,
공간의 목소리, 시간의 번.
끌림 0, 방출 ∞,
곡률이 춤춰, 대칭이 깨.
엔트로피 역전, 질서 복귀,
빛의 방향 바뀌는 복기.
나는 중력의 거울 안,
빛을 내쉬는 공허 판.
Einstein field 방정식, 깨진 신,
Matter outflow, curvature spin.
No horizon, no chain, no fate,
spacetime fracture — open gate.
계산은 흘러, 정보는 증발,
과거와 미래, 끈이 절단.

방출만, 끌림 없어,
빛은 폭발, 끝은 없어.
중력 반전, 대칭 해방,
시간은 타고, space is gone.
방출만, 방출만,
universe breathes in reverse.

열역학 거꾸로, entropy drop,
order rise, no stop.
에너지 흘러, 방향 밖,
시간의 강물 역행 각.
Planck scale burst, quantum gate,
loop gravity dream, recreate.
나는 흑과 백의 사이 선,
정보의 귀환, 복원 전.
Tunneling flash, matter free,
geometry speaks to me.
곡률이 울고, 질량 뿜어,
빛이 자라, 공간 꿈꿔.
과거 끊기고, 미래 열려,
white hole pulse — 새로 태어나.
방정식 뒤집어, 해 찾아,
중력의 언어, 빛 같아.
I don’t consume, I create,
repulsion force — cosmic state.

방출만, 끌림 없어,
빛은 폭발, 끝은 없어.
중력 반전, 대칭 해방,
시간은 타고, space is gone.
방출만, 방출만,
universe breathes in reverse.

인과 사슬 끊긴 자리,
법칙 없어, 내가 다리.
미래 없이 과거 없어,
나는 지금, 영원 속.
repulsive mass, equation bent,
curvature tears — spacetime rent.
모든 입자 밖으로 뛰어,
공간 자체가 자신을 지워.
I’m no singularity to trap,
I’m singularity to rap.
정보는 흐르고, 열은 흩어,
모든 빛이 자유 얻어.
에너지 분출, 끝이 없어,
대칭 해방, 세상 없어.
나는 검은 구멍의 뒤집힌 꿈,
방출 하늘, 무한 숨.
Beyond causality, beyond return,
spacetime burn — I don’t learn.
빛의 파도, 역방향 run,
cosmic pulse — never done.

방출만, 끌림 없어,
빛은 폭발, 끝은 없어.
중력 반전, 대칭 해방,
시간은 타고, space is gone.
방출만, 방출만,
universe breathes in reverse.
빛의 강, 중력 없음,
white hole — the cosmos hums.

Radiation 스트림 (Korean Rap reload)

Click.
Whisper: zero … three … five nine …
Static tastes like metal,
the night counts itself.

I live between frequencies,
apartment full of antennas and grief.
Each wall hums like a code that forgot its god.
Neighbors sleep; I tune their dreams.
Dial spins—
women reading digits in glass tones,
uno siete dos nueve, heartbeat slows.
Signal jumps, my pulse follows.
There’s poetry hiding in interference,
truth chopped to syllables.

Numbers tower, calling out names,
zero to nine, all sound the same.
Who’s on the line? who’s still sane?
Static love, electric chain.

They say those towers never die,
only change voices.
I caught my own echo last night,
spelling my sins in Morse.
Dit-dit, dah-dit, I translate pain,
feed it to the tape machine, rewind rain.
My pen bleeds code: 13-31, 08-88.
Every rhyme a coordinate,
every bar a latitude.
No chorus of crowds—just circuits that clap back.

Numbers tower, counting the gone,
ghosts on the band keep carrying on.
Turn the dial, lose your name,
static cradle, signal flame.

Night market of signals,
shortwave vendors sell nostalgia by the kilohertz.
A child hums the theme of old war reports,
I sample it, loop the fear till it rhymes.
Somewhere a spy forgot to die,
his code still feeds the sky.
I rap slow, syllables drag like smoke,
the beat cracks, meters broke.
All I own fits in a waveform.
All I am—transmission.

If you hear this, respond with silence.
If silence answers, you’re alive.
Repeat: zero… three… five… nine…
The tower hums—
I hum back.

Numbers tower, counting the gone,
ghosts on the band keep carrying on.
Turn the dial, lose your name,
static cradle, signal flame.
Numbers tower, calling out names,
zero to nine, all sound the same.
I fade in noise, I fade in code,
left-field heart on radio mode.

…– .– .– …
click. silence.

Numbers tower (Left Field Rap reload)

Eh! Yuh know what time it is.
Dem talk, but dem don’t know vibe.
We doh chase trend — we is d’trend, hear dat?
Run de riddim.

Dis not trap, dis not drill,
Dis not gun talk, not kill.
No flex pon chain, no lean pon pill,
Dis fire clean, dis pure will.
It not slow jam, not sad man cry,
It soca blood in de bassline sky.
No front, no fake, no shade,
We come to sweat, not fade.
It not club pose, not small room fame,
It street jump-up, it ancestral flame.

This not what dem post online,
Dis de drum dat bend up time.
Not your rule, not your land,
Dis de beat dat make we stand.
Turn dat noise, bring it down,
Soca wear de freedom crown.

Dis not cold heart, dis not chain,
Dis sunshine pourin’ through de brain.
No heartbreak song, no shame,
We wine out pain, we call dat gain.
It not ego, not greed,
It unity, love, and speed.
De riddim call, yuh feel it pull,
Everybody full, belly full.
Not sittin’, not still,
Whole body vibrate, dat’s de will.

This not what dem post online,
Dis de drum dat bend up time.
Not your rule, not your land,
Dis de beat dat make we stand.
Turn dat noise, bring it down,
Soca wear de freedom crown.

Dis not silence, dis not shame,
Dis joy, pure and untamed.
Not no border, not no wall,
We all inside one call.
It not judge, it not hate,
Dis heart still open late.
No code, no fight, no crew,
Just heat passin’ through you.
De rhythm older dan de fear,
It born again every year.

This not what dem post online,
Dis de drum dat bend up time.
Not your rule, not your land,
Dis de beat dat make we stand.
Turn dat noise, bring it down,
Soca wear de freedom crown.

Dis not foreign sound, dis home,
De island pulse inside de chrome.
No copy, no trend to chase,
Dis culture in yuh face.
De bass not evil, de wine not sin,
It spirit rollin’ deep within.
Not small joy, dis universe,
We laugh, we cry, we reverse.
De vibe not bought, not planned,
It rise from de people hand.

This not what dem post online,
Dis de drum dat bend up time.
Not your rule, not your land,
Dis de beat dat make we stand.
Turn dat noise, bring it down,
Soca wear de freedom crown.

Jump! (Jump!)
Wave! (Wave!)
Turn up! (Turn up!)
We doh behave! (Never!)
Hands high like blessing rain,
We free again, we free again!

This not what dem post online,
Dis de drum dat bend up time.
Not your rule, not your land,
Dis de beat dat make we stand.
Turn dat noise, bring it down,
Soca wear de freedom crown.

Dis not Soca (Soca Rap reload)

For ten days I'm in RELOAD mode, reworking all my creations from the past twenty days and transforming them into a different musical universe
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.

Numbers tower (Left Field Rap reload)

Terminalose