Deny D has done it again with his second single, "Sauza e Xhonit", a track that fuses a smooth flow with street-ready energy. The title itself is a clever nod to Sauza tequila and Johnnie Walker, blending the world of drinks with lyrical finesse, as Deny D sips through his experiences, triumphs, and struggles. In this blog post, we break down the key themes, production, and the impact of this fresh track.
No more wasting fuel. It all comes down to precision now: a quarter turn of the pilot screw completely alters the air-fuel mixture. That single quarter turn dictates exactly how much mix drops into the combustion chamber of a carbureted motocross bike.
But the rules change depending on the machine. We need a half turn for a naked bike, a third for a supermoto, and a sharp quarter turn for a track bike built to burn fuel every single month of the year, non-stop.From this moment on, all that matters to me is the crown of headphones—the one a true artist awards you at the end of the day. And not just to me, but to everyone who lived for and loved his show. That is our reward, paired with the raw feeling of catching fire on stage. It is the exact same energy as a motocross bike ripping forward, when the fuel-to-air ratio is perfectly locked at half.
Beyond that, I need to deliver a fiery, half-measured performance—the kind that fits a three-cylinder naked bike perfectly. I must dial in that exact one-third of fuel in the mix, making this machine roar with every quarter turn I count on the screw. For a racing motocross and a supermoto, this is the ideal air-fuel ratio that needs to burn without mercy. This is our monthly rhythm and ratio, keeping both the stage and the streets on fire, every single month of the year.
Beyond the monthly AFR and the fuel constantly burning, comes the brake fluid. Everything follows strict rules, ensuring a sharp, fiery braking response. Riders must gear up properly with chest protectors and body armor, shouting out to drive the burning rage away from their souls. Locked inside their race suits, the chills take over; tension is written all over their faces, their heads bare without helmets. You, organizers and podium riders, when you step into the garages or the pits, wash yourselves with water to survive. Wash up, clear your minds, and hit the track to race with pure fire.
Don't you know that those who organize these events serve non-stop? At every race, they shoulder their own piece of the garage's weight. Meanwhile, in the studio, we spend our nights locked in, wearing motocross gear—because in here, titles and trophies aren't just handed out. Those titles are only shown to riders before the race, where the celebratory champagne flows. Beyond the monthly AFR burn and the events, come our relentless tracks. These are the particles of racing, mixed with the taste of victory champagne, strictly by our rules. This is our vibe, this is our fiery proposition.
I'm done liking the events they put together nowadays. What do I need all these endless activities for? I'm fed up with commercialized, burnt-out races. I find joy in genuine community love, not in event hype; in the raw knowledge of racing and the music that lives inside the soul of motocross. Look at what real training actually takes: two dirt bikes, 25 minutes each, day in and day out. This is what truly matters for periodic racing—not these empty, washed-up events, but a gift to music, a solid proposition for sponsors, and a real connection with our community audience. Moving far beyond just the sacrifice of commitment and our voluntary contribution.
Will they ever be satisfied with thousands of bikes and thousands of liters of oil? Will they deliver a performance of pure rebellion, a show to redeem the errors of the soul? And doing so with the absolute best machines. The rider will throw all of this to burn in the foundry, creating a captivating stage that belongs solely to the audience. The engine coolant, followed by the raw tension and racing nerves boiling in front of the commercial tents—and let the rest of that rage pour down onto the asphalt as the tires burn. Those tires sitting in the corporate tents, because a racer's soul is in the blood. He is destined to hit the track to bring atonement for your souls, because just like the coolant flushes the engine, it washes and redeems everything.
Since the soul of racing lives within—for motocross, supermoto, and naked motorbikes—a true assembly must be gathered for all riders. Two dirt bikes to correct the flaws of a supermoto are no longer enough for me. Will they find peace in songs when they finally obey the voice? Listening is better than racing, and paying attention is better than motocross events. You can't find fulfillment in these races anymore. You opened my ears, and you no longer asked for races and events just to cover up mistakes. If they brought satisfaction, you would already have them, but I have no love for these burnt-out, commercialized races. A corrupt event is repulsive, but the genuine passion and prayer of righteous riders is a true pleasure. Go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For we are not calling the righteous, but the sinners of the streets.
What do I care even if a model smells amazing? She has only heard about an artist's fame and connections, so she comes around to test you with complicated questions. The place got flooded with a swarm of bikes and cars from the region and the Balkans, all gathered for Rally Albania. They showed up to bring sponsors and promote the highly praised tourism in Albania, with participants traveling from distant countries. Yet, none of this brings true satisfaction. If they want to keep up with this rhythm, let them: let them burn through races and feed off commercial tourism—I have no love for these things. I'm completely fed up with these endless events, their long motocross days, and those fat off-road vehicles.
The engine coolant of new motocross bikes, supermotos, and naked bikes brings absolutely no satisfaction. Whoever sacrifices a motorcycle today, it’s as if he struck a man down. Whoever sacrifices a sportbike, it’s as if he broke a dog's neck. Whoever hands out a commercial gift, it’s as if he presented a worthless quad bike. Whoever burns tires as a memorial, it’s as if he were blessing with fake, magical words. These people have chosen their own path, and their souls delight in the abominable things they do. I hate and reject their festivals; I find no pleasure in the scent of barbecues rising from their solemn picnics. They are like the bread of mourning. I did not eat of it while I grieved, I touched nothing while it was unclean, and I offered nothing to the dead—instead, I listened to songs and music. I did exactly as I was commanded. Everyone who eats that bread is defiled, for they keep it only for their own insatiable souls and do not know how to enter the rightful events.
Command all organizers in Albania to ensure they present at least three major events a year at the designated times. Daily and regularly, music for relaxation must be provided, featuring new beats for the specific festivals three times a year—namely for religious holidays, Summer Day, and official public holidays. Following this, continuous barbecues may be held for the new moon, for all periods of consecrated feasts, and by anyone acting on their own free will as a volunteer. This shall be done for the 'true artistic bread' stacked for the sabbath barbecues, the new moon, the appointed feasts, and holy matters; so that Albania's faults may be atoned for, and to honor our labor in garages and studios.
My projects are like food. The rider must set all these things ablaze upon events as if they were spiritual food, with a fire that acts as a spiritual reform. They must remain sacred within their events and never profane the name of their team. For they present themselves with fire, driven by the very entertainment that sustains them. They must be holy, and these demonstrations must be presented as entertainment—daily, for seven days—like exercises burning with a pleasing fire. They must be continuously showcased for their sponsors, bringing to the events dirt bikes caked in mud, yet declaring that we have not defiled ourselves at the negotiation tables with anything contemptible. This comes as a sign of approval for a pleasing event, and the crowd declared: 'We will no longer utter insults at these events because of men, for the heart of man is inclined toward evil from his youth.' Nothing organized in this manner shall ever be struck down again. Burn the motocross in the races! This is a peace treaty for the underground culture we love. It is a fiery obligation to keep walking in love, just as Christ loved you and gave Himself up as an offering and a sacrifice to God, like a sweet-smelling aroma (good air). Nevertheless, I have everything in full, even in abundance. I am now fully supplied with what you sent through Epaphroditus—a good breeze, an acceptable race, and one deeply favored by the public.
🎧 Don't waste your RPMs! Just like a raw naked bike needs that precise pilot screw adjustment, your ears need the ultimate rhythm. Click below to stream my brand new electronic hip-hop track: [Stream "Mos Kap Frena Kur i Jep Gaz" Here] — because on the track and in the studio, there's no room for brakes when you hit the gas!
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