Name: Going Under (freestyle) by NickRavena
Duration: 2 min 50 s
Description: not really sure, i was just depressed asf making this song hope y'all like it though

yo no cap I was gonna repost just cause by the hearing the intro

yo ur flow is original and ur delivery is fyee

tour life... PART 2ski !

we really goin up now !

#CM

Tour's Album

Purgatory

Taking time to meditate and glimpse into view spirituality ￼

Spirit of

Passenger 97

Part I: The Rhythm of the Road

The bus rumbled along the midnight highway, its tires humming a techno beat against the asphalt. Inside, the air was thick with anticipation. Passengers huddled in their seats, lost in their private soundscapes—their headphones cocooning them from the world.

And then there was him: Jack “Steel” Donovan, a man carved from shadows and silence. His denim jacket clung to his broad shoulders, and his eyes, sharp as broken glass, scanned the dimly lit interior. Jack was no ordinary traveller. He was a legend—a renegade DJ who spun beats like spells, conjuring euphoria from the ether.

But tonight, he wasn’t here for the music. He was here for something else—an elusive frequency that pulsed through the veins of the city. The kind of rhythm that made hearts race and souls ache.

As the bus hurtled forward, Jack leaned back, ignoring the person sat  next to him. His fingers drummed an invisible beat on the cracked window. The other passengers stole glances, wondering who this enigmatic stranger was. They sensed danger in his stillness, a storm brewing beneath his skin.

Part II: The Silent Symphony

The bus stopped at a desolate station, and a new passenger boarded. She was different—Lena, with eyes like shattered vinyl records and a secret melody hidden in her smile. She slid into the seat across from Jack, her headphones dangling around her neck.

“Going far?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

Jack smirked. “Far enough.”

Lena’s playlist spilled into the air—a haunting mix of forgotten tracks and lost dreams by an Artist time had forgotten called Robert Phoenix. Jack listened, his pulse syncing with the bassline. He wondered if she held the key to the elusive frequency—the one that could change everything.

As the bus wound through neon-lit streets, Jack and Lena exchanged stories without words. She spoke of broken nights and fractured love, while he revealed nothing. Yet, in the silence between their beats, they understood each other. They were both passengers on a journey to redemption, chasing echoes of forgotten melodies.

Part III: The Final Drop

The bus reached its terminus—an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Jack stepped off, Lena following close behind. The air crackled with anticipation. The other passengers remained, lost in their headphones, oblivious to the unfolding drama.

Inside the warehouse, neon lights painted the walls, and the bass throbbed like a heartbeat. Jack took the stage, his turntables waiting. Lena stood at the edge of the crowd, her eyes locked on him. The crowd swayed, lost in the rhythm, but Jack had a different mission tonight.

He spun the records—the ones that held memories, secrets, and the elusive frequency. The beat intensified, and Lena stepped forward, her headphones now wrapped around her wrists like handcuffs.

“Find it,” she mouthed.

And Jack did. The final drop—the one that shattered reality and birthed a new universe. The crowd erupted, but Jack’s eyes never left Lena’s. Together, they rode the sonic wave, transcending time and space.

As the music faded, Lena leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “Passenger 97,” she whispered. “We’ve arrived.”

And in that moment, Jack knew—he wasn’t just a DJ. He was a conductor, weaving souls together, creating magic from vinyl and starlight.

The legend of Passenger 97 echoed through the city, a beat that would haunt the night forever.

Note: The image above is an artistic representation of the single cover for “Passenger 97.” The real magic lies in the music.

Passenger 97

In the heart of the city, where the night throbs with bass and the air tastes of forbidden desires, there exists a clandestine nightclub—an aural sanctuary known only to those who crave the extraordinary. Its name? “Cocoa Beats”.

The single cover captures a moment frozen in time—a chocolate-infused frenzy. Three women, their eyes aglow with nocturnal hunger, stand before the DJ decks. Their attire is a paradox: leather and lace, sugar and spice. They are the night’s sirens, lured by the promise of rhythm and the scent of melting cocoa.

Lola, the Velvet Vixen: Her skin, bronzed and decadent, glistens under the club’s dim lights. Her leather corset hugs curves that defy gravity. But it’s her eyes—the color of molten chocolate—that hold the secret. She cradles a piece of the DJ deck, its edges softened by desire. Is it the music she devours, or something more primal?
Zara, the Cocoa Enchantress: Her cloak billows like a midnight storm. Its folds conceal ancient runes—the recipe for ecstasy. Her headphones, adorned with cacao pods, pulse with the rhythm of the universe. She bites into the chocolate deck, and the sound reverberates through her bones. Is it pleasure or pain? Perhaps both.
Nina, the Bittersweet Muse: Her skin bears inked constellations—a map of forgotten realms. Her lips, stained with cocoa dust, whisper forgotten lyrics. She clings to the deck’s edge, teeth sinking into the chocolate. Each bite releases memories: stolen kisses, moonlit escapades, and the taste of forbidden love.
Behind them, the DJ booth stands like an altar—an offering to the night. The decks, sculpted from pure Belgian dark chocolate, melt under their touch. The bassline, a primal pulse, weaves spells. The moon, a voyeur, casts its silver glow upon this unholy communion.

And the music? It’s drum and bass, but not as you know it. It’s the rhythm of cocoa pods splitting open, the beat of hearts racing toward oblivion. The crowd, lost in the trance, sways like cacao trees in a tropical storm.

As dawn approaches, the women merge—flesh and confection. Their eyes meet, pupils dilated, souls entwined. They are more than partygoers; they are chocolate alchemists, transmuting sound into sensation, rhythm into rapture.

And so, “Sweet Treat Chocolate” becomes more than a tune—it’s a cocoa-fueled ritual. The night will remember their hunger, their decadence. And when the sun rises, the women will vanish, leaving behind only the echo of their laughter and the scent of melting chocolate.

Note: “Sweet Treat Chocolate” isn’t just a track; it’s an invitation to lose yourself, to taste the forbidden, and to dance until dawn. 🍫🎶

Sweet Treat Chocolate

Cat Chemistry

Messed up love all I know bury them while they are alive and walk away

Cry for us

Toxicity️ 🔪

OGKB - O2 (Prod.Dazeful)

DJ UG - Redline

Rave Love (Mastered)

not really sure, i was just depressed asf making this song hope y'all like it though

Going Under (freestyle)

NickRavena

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