SONG DETAILS
Babylon Bassline (Don’t Feed the Monsta)
A dark drum-and-bass parable disguised as a club track.
The beat hunts like a pulse inside Babylon’s nightlife while a deadpan prophet whispers warnings about the price of artificial living. “Don’t Feed the Monsta” isn’t a sermon; it’s bait -half reggae gospel, half warehouse exorcism.
The Monsta is every addiction, every glowing screen, every false friend that calls from a different number. It’s the thing under your bed, behind the light show, and inside your own reflection.
Play it loud, but listen close: the drop is judgment, the hook is choice, and the silence after is what’s left when you stop feeding it.
Category
Drum & Bass
Lyrics
Don’t feed—don’t feed the monsta!
Don’t feed—don’t feed the monsta!
It call your phone in a thousand tone,
pretend it love when you’re alone.
This is the monsta under your kid’s bed.
This is the monsta inside your head.
It hide in shadows, inhale your air,
it clap when something go unfair.
It watch your shadow when you move,
it grin when truth refuse to prove.
It switch its side when hope get near -
the monsta thrive on pain and fear.
Don’t feed—don’t feed the monsta!
Don’t feed—don’t feed the monsta!
It never sleep, it never pray,
it live on souls that drift away.
It live in lights, in the sugar sin,
it sell you joy, then reel you in.
Promoters count while angels cry;
the monsta tip when humans die.
It’s everywhere—the monsta near.
It want something bad to appear.
It knows your voice, it knows your thought.
It’s everywhere you ever fought.
It’s your choice to feed or not to feed-
it grow on fear, it starve on peace.
Babylon tremble, false light die,
truth crash through the holy sky.
Rave promoter cry, rave promoter cry -
no refund for Jah eye.
This song isn’t about a monster - it’s about the choice to stop feeding it. It’s the voice that rings out when the fog clears, the bass drops, and you realize the light was never real.
Marcus
CEO of Cult Classics Seeds