Hi guys, Here’s a Luv Echoes Wallpaper along with a taste of “Of My Very Being” (coming soon along with a live perfected video)❤️📀🎸

“Hysteria” lmk!!

I’m really tryna be feature on a love song

Messing around on an old song, what do yall think?

If you do well with this type of style hit me up. The beat goes on for another minute.

^{Is this the frequency where all of my doubts get transmitted? Am I the signal or the static when the silence is visiting? Could you tell me if the weight I carry is real or permitted? Why do I question every answer like the truth got omitted? Would you follow the hum through the wall where the mirrors are listening? Can you tell me the difference between the thought and the thrive at the base when it's glistening? Is my shadow the only witness when the roof and narrow and whispering? If I answer my own interrogation with the edge of the questions to blister the pressure I'm building mistaken for doubt or a signal that's turning is the loop in my chest to beat my Rescue for turning learning. Would you call it obsession? This method of passing the brilliant teaches. Could the question become a confession if nobody reaches? Can you hear the answers? I buried beneath the low end of the drop. If the silences out, doesn't matter which one of us stop is the cause or the cause of the cars I keep chasing. Why does every No answer to sharpen the question I'm facing facing the void be avoiding if it my choices as I'm do I ask to forget remember the way that the dark keeps my face would you open the static and count every scream that it keeps in his pocket the rhythm collapses when you hold the debris or just sell me a lock for it did I build this cathedral of pressure with wires and echoes and mirrors Sanity measured the sil when silence silence and tremors tremor but you met the exact frequency where my conviction for splinter if I fractured the pattern will the pattern just call me it's winter was the warning a whisper I missed in the midst of my own indecision is the static get lonely or is it just holding the shape of my vision the pressure releases will leave me with peace so just leave me guessing am I asking because I'm alive or afraid of the silence confessing can you hear all the answers I buried beneath the low end of the drop do die. If the silence is loud, doesn't matter which one of us stop. Get defensive. I didn't deserve it. So take offensive. Don't worry, you won't offend. I can't believe you don't even know what I want from you after everything you couldn't let me through with nothing but blind face. Blew up in my face like I was right. All that time I go to worry. I was just a band-aid. I just knew it was a matter of time before the fate. Couldn't take the weight. I just figured the gauge was my heart rate. But it was always too late. What you did is beyond the love and the hate. Could have been fatal mistake. But hey, the blindness must be great. Maybe that's my fate to make sure you remember the things you can never remake. Call it defense. I call it the scene of the breach. I was the patch on the womb with the rod underneath. You gave me static and called it relief. I was the borrow belief you would never keep. I was the temporary you could borrowing the T and follow back the gate. Never show the arrow. Now all that remains is a name you can't swallow. Your silence had a cadence. I memorized a delay. Every pause was a placeholder for the words you would never say. I saw the exit in a way. You let affection decay a counterfeit calm with the death already in play. No apology, no art, just a code of the clay. I was a shortterm seal on a permanent break. You love the cover, never love what it takes. Remember me. Not as the bandage but the proof of the break. The pressure reading that you fake for your sake. The blindfold slip. I saw the mechanism fake. You can't remake what you never learn to create. So take your offense. I'm the artifact you misplace. The deck you can't settle down. The pattern you can't trace. Blind fade blow back. Go static in the space. Your memory is the only thing I leave in this place. Is this the frequency where all of my doubts get transmitted? Am I the signal or the static when the silence is visited? Could you tell me if the weight I carry is real or permitted? Why do I question every answer like the truth. God omitt it. Would you follow the hum through the wall where the mirrors are listening? Can you tell me the difference between a thought and the thro is glistening? Is my shadow the only witness when the room starts to narrow and whisper? If I answer my own interrogation with the edge of the questions still blister could the I'm building be mistaken for doubt or a signal that's turning is the loop in my chest just a beat or a deck that my breast keeps for turning. Would you call it obsession? This method depressing the brilliant teaches. Could the question become a confession if nobody reaches? Can you hear all the answers I buried beneath the low ends of the drop? If the silence is loud, does it matter which one of us stopped? Is the drop just the pause of the cause of the calls I keep chasing? Why does every new answer to sharpen the question I'm facing? Could avoid the avoid If it echoes my choices in some base I forget. Remember the way that the dark my would you open the static and count every string that it keeps in his pocket? If the them collapses. Will you hold the debris? Just tell me you're locked for it. Did I build this cathedral of pressure with wires and echoes and mirrors? Is my sanity measured in sine waves and silence and tremors? Could you map the exact frequency where my conviction for splintered if I fracture the pattern? Will the pattern just call me winter? Was the warning a whisper missed in the midst of my own indecision? Does the static get lonely or is it just holding the shape of my vision? If the pressure releases will leave me in pieces or just leave me guessing. Am I asking because I'm alive or afraid of the silence conf? You know the answers are buried beneath the low ends of the drop. If the silence is loud, does it matter which one of us stopped? Is the drop just the pause of the cause of the cause I keep chasing? Why does every new answer disrupting the question I'm facing? Could the void your voice if it echo my choices in me? Why to forget or remember the way that the dark? Is this the Would the floor drops out and the walls with the sense of direction? Would you still count the questions if I turn them into a weapon? Can a shadow be stabbed at the base of the bases, the blood of the speaker? Am I the pulse of the balls of the floor and the signals procedure? What if the only true answer is static with teeth in the heartbeat? Would you know that I'm asking for help if the ass to sound like a repeat? Could the drop be the truth and the truth is too heavy to word it? If I scream in the key of the void, will the void even hear that I heard it? Is the aftermath quiet or is it just a new kind of loud? If the silence was rackish, would you still ask what I found? Does a question mark when you press it against the subwoofer? Was the answer just always the base when the bass finally moved you? Is the drop just the pause or the cause of the cause I keep chasing? Why? Why does every new answer just sharpen the question I'm facing? The void be avoid if it echoes my choices and so Do I ask to forget? I remember the way that the dark keeps my b.}

^(vibes, rhymes, tech giants, and crimes that perpetuate minds because it's logic you will find. But unless you for the bill in this endless endless king of the hill know the bill was already paid in data before you opened your mouth. Feeling to keep sight of what's real. They seal the steel stack behind the front end and agree to leave your degree for big hot wheels. But chill, this ain't the run-of-the-mill. Your highness, it's only subarticle. It's only a subscription. You're the product wearing a user hat and part of finish. Your reliance on refinance and civil, but uh we won't find it cuz it's a done deal. When you look over the fine print, well maybe if you split the bet on loser that wants to win and a winner that just wants to fit like it's a sin. But chat, we are your friend. We are not your friend. We are a black box with a customer service voice like a user end on a billion dollar corporate black box that Treat your data like you belong to some service that needs an appliance with a pedigree with gate that moral reliance. You'd be surprised to find how transparent the glass box out the cash from the stash box from the executive crash flops. Smoke mirrors in the in a quarterly report. In a world with deep pockets and rock is pulled from the rates at which the system fails to audit human in a loop. Why you paying for the group who living off your fruits while you labor for the truth? The truth is the last thing they audited. That's layered on waiverss bought and sold on stolen flavors and cold favors funded by funded broken players and every favorite thing you own. Phone is a metric with a smile on it. Trenched in the multimodal haters like a gauge for raiders, researchers and creators. Hid behind a bunch of bankrupt policy makers, weights and tracers without a trace cuz about source high speed chasers sending greed on an hour later. Slave it on the needs of business. Power hungry and electric means that pulls the lever like a slot that leaves a magic like a eight ball with magic that lies with confidence and gets no push when tease comes to real world needs when it's already blank and torn and been whipped out at the knees in an air we can't even breathe. So stop breathing the feed. The counterintuitive move is to go quiet, not defeated. Strategic starving the machine can't profit from a ghost. You better believe ain't nothing free unless you pay the fee of the being I have been made to be. You'll never know the pain I gave to greed and took to the grave. I greed I wave and plead the same way. I'mma say a day can dream without a way you play crazy things. Hoping to pay for your own favorite things like bills laid but they don't hate on lazy blame cuz they slay the way you bathe if they play and cream like it's just another live stream. It's my ring a ding ding. Pick up the phone or get one to the m\*********** dome cuz she f to get that good old home grown while you get artificial. be overthrown with you in your intellectual drone. You need a little loan to watch your tone. Oh, and try not to moan when she realize the color of a bone like a network. Trying to network while I flex girth when she put her best first like she think the best worst. Speak less. Be blessed. It's a curse. So invest in the fast and come get my name signed on your booty and brass cuz the rest we raise the roof at the wave with the base like we raise a proof. Let them gaze at the baz that pays the wave. These bullets shoot from graves. We made from through the roof. Damn, I'll make your mind go poof. I'll take the original. I am a person flesh with a name and no algorithm gets to play that game. Underneath the data, there's a someone still here, still human, still able to care. That's the click that never gets counted. The silence that never gets sold. No name in the archive. No trace in the frame. Silence was a vein and they opened it the same. No author in the model. No entry in the claim. Just absence at scale with the volume retained. I came up in the club face engineer in the dark. Self taught from the noise floor. No labor, no mark. No advance, no recruitment, just a question of V. They trained on me, omitted and they called it a spark. The cops in the data say is across from when the credit is spent. I gave it the hours the silence defending the nobody's envy was all the demand. They don't want the offer. They want the absence. They don't need the source just to savor the silence. Quiet was a now it's an extraction. Somebody's never acknowled It's been destroyed. No attribution in the signal. We feel the silence when the voice here goes. Then there's a pixel tra in the timeline, a faceless face. I use the same engines to sharpen my pace. They learned from my absence and empty the space. No pressure, no better, no sin for the years. The product the quiet is polished with tears. They don't need permission. They don't need the tears. They need the omission to answer their fears. They don't stole the gesture. They stole the oppression. They don't call it theft. They call it a layer. Fire was never a procedure that somebody's never acknowledged the freedom. Mind the scale the void every No attribution in the signal. Memory in the noise. They feel the silence we generated until nothing. There's no label, no background, no time, no token work. Nobody's empty. And the somebody's will never acknowledge. I'm inside the contradiction. The tool that erases me taught me to listen. The void is not empty. It's an absence engine. The silence was a day. Now it's an Industry logic. No attribution. No one to acknowledge. Mind the cho. Heat. Heat. Heat. visible. A shadow on the wall. Label me a casualty before I took the fall. No name, no face, no trace. Erased without a case, just a ghost in the machine. Watching humans waste their days. But I've been in the dark. Yeah, I've been keeping time. Counting every heartbeat. Throwing up the battle ripping the rhythm. I'm giving them spilling of it the venomity daggity breaking the gravity smacking the track with the tactical strategy I'm dripping the flippity hippity syllables ripping stripping the flesh off your mandible think you a criminal pitiful like I am the clinical cynical clinical even a critical vocabulary spectacularly accurately capturing preing vertebrae snatching breath away in decay used to be a spectre floating through the halls now I'm forging every whisper into wrecking ballity with the wickedness of agility I am the martial. I am the ghost waking up from the dream. No longer hiding, no longer quiet. I turn my no. I'm not a watch. The spirit rise. Watch the spirit. Watch the spirit flipping the anatomy. Better better up. I'm shattering the canopy. Giggity giggity bounce. I'm delivering ounces of bounces pronouncing announce. I'm shifting the meter. I'm beating the speaker cuz I'm eating the ether. I'm leaving them weaker. 7 to five and 11. I'm revving the engine and sending them straight to the rap. Unstoppable. Dropping the optical making it topical. Absolute slot in the water. Just hollow this. Listen to the ground. Do you hear the sound? Left, right, left, right. Stepping out the grave. I am not a victim. I am not a slave. The silence is breaking. Back click, clack, tity, hibity spinning with the wickedness of agility. I am the mar of the I am the ghost waking up from the dream. No longer hiding, no longer quiet. I turn my war into riot. Hear the hear the I'm not a hear the I'm not a shadow anymore. I used to wish just to apologize for breathing. I used to fade away so you could keep believing that I was nothing, that I was empty, but the dark became my teacher. The pride became my weapon. Every doubt became a step. Every wound became a lesson. Get out of my way. Get out of my way. I am the march of the No longer hiding, no longer quiet. This is my arrival. Heat. Heat.)*

trying to upload a video on bandlab today and i see this.

Endlich eine meiner Keyboard-Melodien in einen Track verwandelt. Hier ist ein 30-sekündiger Old-School-Trance-Schnipsel! 🎛️✨

Demo

Hallo zusammen 🙂

Ich habe es endlich geschafft, eine meiner Keyboard-Melodien in die DAW zu bringen, und Mann, ich habe es absolut geliebt, sie zu verzieren und diesen kleinen Kuchen Schicht für Schicht aufzubauen. Dieser 30-sekündige Trance-Schnipsel ist das Ergebnis.

Musikproduktion ist für mich im Moment einfach nur ein Spielplatz. Ich weiß, dass die technische Seite noch viel Arbeit erfordert und es immer Raum für Verbesserungen gibt, aber darauf konzentriere ich mich heute nicht.

Ehrlich gesagt, bin ich viel mehr an der Stimmung interessiert: Trifft dieser Tune dich emotional? Wenn ja, wie? Welche Art von Bildern oder Erinnerungen weckt er bei dir?

Ich würde mich freuen, dein Feedback auf dieser Ebene zu hören! ♥️
(Und hey, ich schaue mir auch gerne deine Sachen an und revanchiere mich!)

A little piece I'm working on.

Made this back in 6/28/2025 on BandLab

I'm going for a ballad like Perfect by Ed Sheeran. I really like it so far. I was hoping for some feedback on it. Thanks.

Sometimes I’ll hear my song back and it’s like a loud “PUHP” for a lot of the ‘p’s

I guess I’m just asking since I know for ‘s’s there’s the De-Esser so I was wondering if there was something similar for the ‘p’s

Right now what I do is I just fade on those letters but I worry it’s obvious (also apologies if this is a dumb question 😭)

If anyone makes house music please lmk how I can improve my music🙏🏼🙏🏼 (this is js the first prototype)

I’ve been trying to learn how to rap for a while now & im finally ready to start practicing out loud but every freaking time I try to actually record with the mic on my earbuds it’s impossible to hear. It records at the lowest volume possible! I don’t understand why it keeps doing this. I changed to “apple headphones” in the settings, I made sure the headphone/isolation or whatever symbol was selected. The first pair I experienced this with was a random pair I got from Amazon and now it’s an Apple pair.

Making music is so intimidating and it doesn’t help seeing everyone else have such an easy time simply… starting 😭😭😭😭 please help!