The Fables of Afro-Juju Cypher Remix

Lyrics

The drum opens the corridor of memory. Languages begin to braid together the way rivers meet in a delta—each carrying its own tone, yet flowing toward the same sea of meaning. In this remix the fable keeps its spine, but the voices widen: English carrying the narrative, Yoruba and Edo grounding the wisdom, Igbo sharpening reflection, and the street pulse of Lagos keeping the rhythm alive. --- THE FABLE OF THE DRUM, THE POET & THE CHRONICLE — MULTILINGUAL REMIX An Afro-Juju Highlife Street Chronicle Declared within the Afro-Juju Continuum THE JB Studios × Burg City Records Invocation Before guitars sang Highlife beneath the Lagos sky, before ink touched the first page of a chronicle, before the studio lights warmed the workshop of sound— there was breath. And breath belongs to God. The elders say the universe itself began as a rhythm: a pulse of breath that awakened silence. So the storytellers begin with reverence. GOD is in the work. The Workshop Inside Lagos, restless city of tides and traffic, stood a humble workshop of sound. Not palace. Not throne. Not royal court. Just cables curling like roots beneath the floor and microphones resting patiently like quiet birds. The place was called THE JB Studios. From that room emerged a declaration: The Afro-Juju Continuum. A river where music meets philosophy, where journalism meets heritage, where art meets the memory of ancestors. --- The Poet At the center of that workshop stood Juju. Not merely a musician. Not merely a philosopher. Juju was a poet. His guitar spoke like an elder around the fire. Each chord carried meaning. Each lyric carried memory. Sometimes the rhythm laughed. Sometimes the rhythm thundered. But it always told the truth. The Yoruba elders would nod and say: “Ọ̀rọ̀ kì í tan ní ẹnu ọlọ́gbọ́n.” Wisdom never finishes speaking in the mouth of the wise. The Builders Beside Juju stood DisiGnER BiNG, architect of imagination. Where Juju shaped language, BiNG shaped structure. Dreams became studios. Ideas became systems. And moving through the rhythm of creation was Celebrity Steve, whose creative energy carried sound and vision across platforms. Together they formed a triangle of motion: Poetry. Design. Execution. From that triangle rose the musical house known as: Burg City Records. There the rhythm found wings. There the guitars crossed oceans. The Chronicle But the elders who visited the studio spoke carefully: Songs travel quickly. Memory travels slowly. Without record, history becomes wind. So the Continuum forged a new instrument. Not drum. Not trumpet. Not guitar. A chronicle. They called it: THE JB-TIMES A multicultural publication of JiNG & BiNG Studios, recording and reporting the cultural intelligence of the Afro-Juju Continuum. The Yoruba remind us: “Bi a bá gbagbé ìtàn, a gbagbé ara wa.” If we forget the story, we forget ourselves. --- The Watchtower Within the chronicle rose a watchtower. It was called Tele-Giwa. Tele — to see across distance. Giwa — honoring the fearless journalist Dele Giwa. The watchers studied systems quietly. Money systems. Technology networks. Cultural power. For the Igbo elders say: “Onye kwe, Chi ya ekwe.” When a person agrees with truth, their spirit agrees also. And every discovery they preserved inside the great archive known as: The JiNG & BiNG Millennium. The Ancestors Long before microphones, long before printing presses, Benin already understood the duty of memory. There stood a queen mother whose courage protected a kingdom: Queen Idia — Iyoba N’Uselu. Symbol of wisdom. Guardian of sovereignty. Beside her memory stands the historian whose pen preserved Benin history: Chief Jacob Uwadiae Egharevba. His quill transformed oral memory into written record. Thus ivory and ink stand together within the Continuum. The Edo elders say: “Agho ma vbe egbe, egbe ma vbe agho.” The hand supports the arm, and the arm supports the hand. Heritage supports memory. Memory supports culture. The Road That Remembers Yet every living movement must bow before sacrifice. There is a road in Lagos that remembers voices. At Lekki Toll Gate, young citizens once gathered beneath the night sky. They carried no weapons. Only hope. Some returned home. Some became echoes carried forward by history. But courage does not disappear. It travels through generations like a drumbeat. The Igbo elders say: “A na-amụta ihe n’aka ndị gara aga.” Wisdom is learned from those who walked before us. And so the Continuum bows its head in remembrance. The Continuum Now the guitars rise again. Highlife strings shimmer across Lagos air. Talking drums answer like ancestral conversation. From THE JB Studios to Burg City Records, from the pages of THE JB-TIMES to the archives of the JiNG & BiNG Millennium— the Continuum keeps moving. Poets write. Designers build. Journalists record. And the storytellers finally closes the fable.