Yeah…
I thought it was talk.
Now the room smells sweet and wrong.

She said love was hunger,
I laughed, poured her wine.
Her eyes stayed still,
like heat before the crime.
Told me, “baby, taste this fire,”
I thought she meant desire.
But the air turned thick,
and my pulse climbed higher.

Slow it down, slow it down,
she moves like smoke around.
Voice syrup-thick,
words stick.
I can’t tell dream from fear,
she whispers, “you’re dinner, dear.”

The lights flick, kitchen red,
metal glint near the bed.
My laugh don’t sound the same,
mouth dry, forgot my name.
She hums a tune I never knew,
each note cuts clean and true.
Something’s cooking, smell of spice,
and I pray she’s joking twice.

Slow it down, slow it down,
she moves like smoke around.
Voice syrup-thick,
words stick.
I can’t tell dream from fear,
she whispers, “you’re dinner, dear.”

Walls melt, I taste the lie,
table trembles, reason dies.
Her hands too soft to hold a blade,
but love got rules she never made.

Slow it down, slow it down,
she moves like smoke around.
Voice syrup-thick,
words stick.
I can’t tell dream from fear,
she whispers, “you’re dinner, dear.”

Now I see what she meant that night.
Not love… appetite.
(repeat chopped 3×)

Slow it down (Chopped & Screwed 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.

Slow it down (Chopped & Screwed Rap reload)

Terminalose