I can’t get you out my mind
Ohh baby I need that water
Every time we say goodbye
I wish that I held you longer
Inside
Harder, better, faster, stronger
Absence sweet, my heart gon’ follow
That’s right
Baby I need your body (Soft touch)
Give me good love and give me your trust
You are my one and only, my super model
Where you go, I follow
Cross my heart and hope to die, will never be alone
You know how it go on a late nights
Working like a slave till the daylight
B****** coming at you through the grapevine
Way smart coming at me with a steak knife
What’s beef? Beef is when you…
(nah forget it that’s not the vibe)
You remind me of my Jeep (I wanna ride)
I’ve been thinking ’bout you every twenty-one days
It’s kinda ironic twenty-one is your age
I needed somebody who can give me my space
Only God can judge me, put respect on my name
Singing my praises make me feel like a King
But you ain’t afraid to put me back in my place
When I get stuck in my ways
I can’t get you out my mind
Oh baby I need that water
Every time we say goodbye
I wish that I held you longer
Inside
Harder, better, faster, stronger
Absence sweet, my heart gon’ follow
That’s right
Baby I need your body (Soft touch)
Give me good love and give me your trust
You are my one and only
My super model
Where you go, I follow
Cross my heart and hope to die, will never be alone
You know coloured boys love harder
You can have inches
You can have followers
Photoshop thickness
But if you ain’t got a thick skin
You can’t handle my aura
Battery dead where your phone? Let me call up
Sleeping on the bed
I just pulled up it’s a foreign
Different time zones on my head
Spent my whole December
Checked to go and clear my head (Big bread)
Jabu was using Google to tell the Uber what he was thinking in Zulu
Before the driver turned around and said
Bro I speak really good Englis
I’m busy looking out the window
Thinking how you been
Ever since we met we’ve been speaking
Every morning, every evening
It’s ironic we don’t know how to communicate
We just gotta turn on the volume, we better pray
These are the promises
You gotta say with a ring
I can’t get you out my mind
Ohh baby I need that water
Every time we say goodbye
I wish that I held you longer
Inside
Harder, better, faster, stronger
Absence sweet, my heart gon’ follow
That’s right
Baby I need your body (Soft touch)
Give me good love and give me your trust
You are my one and only
My super model
Where you go, I follow
Cross my heart and hope to die, will never be alone
Wake up, wake up, wake up
Do what you gotta do
Go make her last name yours
Ever-lasting love
Tattoo, tattoo, tattoo
Invest your sweat and blood
You got, you got the juice
We compliment each other
I can’t get you out my mind
Ohh baby I need that water
Every time we say goodbye
I wish that I held you longer
Inside
Harder, better, faster, stronger
Absence sweet, my heart gon’ follow
That’s right
Baby I need your body (Soft touch)
Give me good love and give me your trust
You are my one and only
My super model
Where you go, I follow
Cross my heart and hope to die, will never be alone
When a former football player tosses the rulebook for modern music, the results can feel braver than any tidy genre label. That is the lane King Jay Da Blountman keeps choosing, a Florida based St. Augustine artist with one foot in hip hop, one in country, and both planted in sheer hustle. His 2025 album “Versatile” has been picking up momentum as one of the year’s more convincing independent releases, partly because it refuses to sound like it is trying to fit a template.
A clear highlight is “Fish’n,” a 2-minute-and-54-second feel good cut that shows how naturally King Jay can blur styles without turning it into a gimmick. The track grabs you fast with a cadence that feels lived in. Instead of sitting on top of the beat, his voice folds into the groove, so the vocals and the production feel made for each other.
That ease matters because “Fish’n” leans into the space where singing and rapping overlap. King Jay slides between the two with a smooth rap sing touch that keeps hip hop and country in the same frame. The song lands like a snapshot of a mood, one that pulls you outdoors and away from the buzz of everything else.
The imagery is simple and it works. You can picture the fishing gear, the boat that is ready to go, the cooler packed with beer or whiskey, and the sun hanging in the sweet spot. “Fish’n” carries that particular kind of freedom you only get when the day is yours. It makes a fishing trip feel overdue, along with the permission to take a real day off. The music stays relaxed while still earning repeat listens.
There is crossover charm here that recalls Shaboozey’s 2024 hit “A Bar Song (Tipsy)”. The difference is that “Fish’n” stays unmistakably King Jay. It draws from lived experience and unfiltered real talk, and it keeps its own shape even as it nods to multiple worlds. The hookiness is the point, a cadence that lingers after the last note fades.
The best moments come from the tight fit between performance and production. King Jay’s vocals lock in with the beat, reinforcing the track’s quiet confidence and natural flow. It is the kind of song that belongs on open roads and open water, and it rewards listeners who like their playlists with fewer walls.
“Fish’n” sits on “Versatile,” a nine track project that earns its title. The album has been performing strongly, with several songs quickly becoming fan favorites, including “Whisky Man,” “Respect,” “Blue Cheese,” and “Kings.” Each cut shows a different angle of King Jay’s approach, yet the project holds together through a consistent sense of authenticity and risk taking.
You can hear how this run builds on what came before. “Versatile” follows the success of Jay’s 2022 album “Level Up,” which included the track “By the Water,” now with over 104,000 streams on Spotify. That earlier momentum set the table for what he is doing now, expanding his reach while sharpening his sound.
King Jay Da Blountman has always moved across lanes, from drums to raps, funny videos to serious storytelling, and the streets to global streaming platforms. His story reads as growth and openness, an artist still stretching toward the next version of himself. With “Versatile,” and with a standout like “Fish’n,” he shows how music crosses borders through heart, honesty, and a beat you can live inside.
As King Jay keeps spreading his wings globally, one jam at a time, “Versatile” works as both statement and invitation. Come as you are, grab a drink, and press play.
Fast-budding Nigerian artist Omaye’s single “Tell Them” arrives with assurance that usually takes artists a few releases to earn. He keeps it tight, too. The track runs 2 minutes and 17 seconds, and it uses every second with purpose. In a lane where bigger often gets mistaken for better, Omaye shows how far a clear idea can travel when the writing and performance stay focused.
“Tell Them” plays like a self-empowerment chant built from a hardened, never-say-never mindset. The message is straightforward: put in the work, stay locked in, and trust destiny to meet you halfway. Omaye delivers it with a calm steadiness, the sort of quiet confidence that suggests he already sees the finish line. You can hear the belief that his moment is on schedule, and that nothing is going to shake him off course.
The sound matches that mindset. Omaye’s Afrobeats foundation gives the record its swing, while gurgling Amapiano synths bubble underneath and add a subtle lift. The production stays clean and restrained, leaving plenty of air for the vocal. Omaye’s delivery is crisp and polished, gliding over the beat with clarity. He never rushes the pocket. Each note feels chosen, each inflection considered, as if he’s more interested in landing the feeling than showing off technique.
What makes “Tell Them” linger is its emotional balance. It’s catchy and undeniably infectious, yet it carries weight. The hook sticks because the sentiment does, and the track rewards replay for more than its bounce. Omaye isn’t reaching for drama or putting on a persona. He’s capturing a mindset shaped by struggle, resilience, and self-belief, then letting that honesty do the heavy lifting. By the time the song ends, the confidence feels earned rather than advertised.
With “Tell Them,” Omaye comes off as a storyteller who knows what he wants to say and how to say it. The track reads as proof that he has the tools to connect with fans of Afrobeats, Amapiano, and Hip-Hop alike, and to do it without diluting his voice. The direction is clear. The hunger is right there in the phrasing.
Now streaming on Apple Music, “Tell Them” lands as a statement of intent and a clean introduction for anyone meeting him for the first time. If this single is a preview, the question around Omaye’s rise is timing, not possibility. Time feels like the only gap between him and the next level.
The release is also a milestone: “Tell Them” is Omaye’s first professionally recorded single, and it sets the stage for his upcoming EP “17EEN,” which is close on the horizon. Keep the name Omaye in your head. You’re going to hear it again.
IurisEkero has always had that producer aura where every synth feels like it’s holding hands with your feelings. On AURA, that instinct expands into cinematic storytelling. He even marked the release with a sunset ceremony at the base of the Andes, like he was unlocking a secret level in a music RPG. You can’t fake that kind of commitment. It gives the album a clear vibe: this is meant to be lived, not treated like something you leave running in the background.
He stays in a contemporary pop lane, polished but heartfelt, digital yet soft around the edges. The textures are warm. The vocal layers feel like a hug. And there’s a sense that each song stands as its own emotional chapter. The point is mood-building, not novelty. AURA ends up feeling like 16 different emotional passports, each stamped with a slightly different shade of hope, doubt, desire, or relief.
The album kicks off with “The Password Of My Heart,” a title that sounds cheesy until the production hits. Then it turns into a confession wrapped in shimmering synths. He moves gently, almost whisper soft, and the chorus floats in like he’s opening a door you weren’t sure you should walk through. It’s a smart opener because it sets the standard early: sweetness, yes, but with detail and control.
“Didn’t See You Today” brings the jolt. It’s dance pop in full gear, bright, jumpy, and built around a beat that sounds designed to rescue someone from a bad mood. The female vocals glide across the instrumental with precision, as if they arrived already locked into the same emotional tempo. The track is glossy, but it keeps the album’s softness intact, the warmth never drains out.
In the middle, “Aura” sits like a breathing space. It’s modern pop with emotional density, yet airy enough that you can drift with it. This is the one you play while staring at something far away, pretending you’re in a movie even if you’re just sitting on a bus. The hook doesn’t have to shout. The feeling does the work.
The crown jewel is “We Are All In One,” the single that has already pushed past 222k streams on Spotify. The appeal is immediate. The lyrics read like a sunrise pep talk from your favorite person:
“Woke up dreaming. Sky is clear, got the world beneath my feet…”
“Every moment, every glance feels like magic.”
“You’re my fire, my best friend.”
It’s warm, melodic, and sweet, and it carries an electronic bounce that keeps it from getting too soft. Romantic, yes, but it avoids the clingy tone that can flatten songs like this. It lifts you up without turning into a self-help poster. This is the track for the walk home after a long day, the moment you need a reminder that life can still glow.
The deeper cuts give the album its emotional spine. “Even Miracles Take a Little Time” and “Invisible Gravity” lean into introspection with an almost therapeutic honesty. Then he pivots into higher energy with “Let’s Ignite the Night” and “Cut Loose,” tracks that feel like the soundtrack to the moment you decide to stop overthinking everything. The shifts don’t feel random. They read like a real emotional arc, the way a night out can start with doubt and end with release.
As the album closes with “Don’t Get Your Hopes Up,” he returns to vulnerability, the real kind, not the Instagram caption version. The yin and yang in his music stays front and center, joy alongside uncertainty, light alongside shadow. That duality is what makes AURA feel human.
And that Andes launch seals the whole concept. He turned an album into a communal moment. As the sun dropped, each track played like a ritual chapter, a shared breath between strangers. It transformed AURA from a playlist into a lived memory. Artists talk about unity. Here, he actually staged it.
If you want more than background music, AURA is a recommendation. Each track is layered with feeling, melody, and energy that makes you hit replay before the last note fades. Stream it, share it.