Over You

I hear this as a 140 BPM juggernaut that feels less like a track and more like a sealed room slowly filling with smoke. The energy is absolute—every kick lands with raw, unpolished force while the hypnosis creeps in through repetition rather than melody. There is no escape velocity here, only a tightening grip I have no desire to break.

I would save it for that cruel, beautiful dead-of-night moment when the floor is too far gone for subtlety. Pitched in 4B, it maintains a cold, luminous tension that stops the dread from ever turning murky. When the room needs a jolt of pure, uncut electricity, this is where I reach, no questions, just sweat.