Chéfi nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. He hit a sequence, and a heavy, melodic bassline began to thrum through the floorboards. It was haunting, yet triumphant—the sound of a survivor who had finally found the throne.
Elias walked to the window, watching the city wake up. He was no longer just a kid with a dream; he was the voice of a generation that refused to stay silent. The world called him a star, but in that studio, he knew the truth: he was a born from the grit, polished by the beat.
Elias closed his eyes. He wasn't just a singer anymore; he was a bridge between worlds. He thought of the dusty streets of his youth, the long nights spent dreaming of a stage he couldn't see, and the cold reality of being an immigrant in a city that didn't always want him. Soolking - Rockstar Prod by ChГ©fi
Elias stepped out of the booth, drenched in sweat but electrified. He looked at Chéfi, who was already layering the vocals.
"It needs more soul, Chéfi," Elias said, leaning back in his chair. "More of the struggle, but with the shine of where we're going." Chéfi nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen
As the track built, his voice soared. He sang about the duality of fame—the designer clothes that hid the scars, and the gold chains that felt as heavy as the shackles of the past. He sang for the kids back home who looked at the Mediterranean and saw a wall, telling them it was actually a red carpet.
He stepped into the booth. The moment the headphones went on, the world outside vanished. Elias walked to the window, watching the city wake up
"They’re going to feel this one," Chéfi said, a rare smile breaking his focused expression.
