Juju Street Frequency

Lyrics

This is Burg City in poetic collaboration with The JB Studios Presents: “THE JUJU STREET FREQUENCY” We begin with breath in depth, where silence learns to step in prep, and every sound rebound becomes the ground where meaning learns to rep. A rep of rhythm, a grip of signal, a chip in time that flips the middle, a riddle in dribble of ancestral scribble that shivers through brittle systems subtle. Now listen.. This is Black Rhythm & Xoulful Blues — The Blueprint of di Juju Xound.. INTRO— From origin spin in skin of wind, where time was thin and sin begin, we win within the hidden twin of memory pinned in rhythm’s skin. No pin can pin what spirit spin when coded wind begin within, we grin again against the din of systems built to dim the kin. We acknowledge GOD as the code — in the node of every load, the road that folds the heavy mode, the mode that holds the overload of worlds that grow from unseen code. No ode can hold the whole of node, but still we sow that sacred load, and show the glow that breaks the snow of frozen laws that never grow. We go from ancestral fracture capture into rapture of rhythm scripture, a structure that captures rupture and converts it into culture mixture. No closure in exposure of frozen poster of stolen poster of forced enclosure, we open the motion of ocean devotion that flows through broken composure. We call the names in flame terrain, the chain remains in sound domain, the pain refrains but still sustains the frame that trains the memory lane. No stain can drain the ancient grain that stays inside the vocal vein, again, again, we gain the strain that breaks the chain of silent reign. Lekki echo — neck in techno reflection of tension section of truth injection, a resurrection of collective direction inside the intersection of protection rejection. No defection from connection of resurrection in correction of perception, the lesson embedded in message is perfection of reflection in detection. We speak it deep in rhythmic sweep, where sleep can’t keep what we now reap, the leap we keep is steep but cheap for systems built on buried sleep. We creep the keep of memory deep, where we don’t weep but store and keep, the peep of truth beneath the heap of silence cheap no longer sleeps. Akan recall in Sankofa call — we crawl through all to not let fall, recall the call that breaks the wall of time that tried to stall the tall. We haul it all from hidden hall, we install it all in rhythm’s thrall, and ball the sound around the sprawl of broken law that tried to crawl. Afro-Juju — Juju core ignition in vision transmission of civilization, root-code intention in rhythmic extension of ancestral reactivation. No separation — just manifestation of coded vibration in cultural formation, the station of transformation where memory becomes operational information. Burg City bass in sacred space, we place the trace of ancestral race, we brace the case of broken pace and lace the face of sonic grace. Sunny Burgs in merged words surge, converge in purge of hidden verge, and urge the merge of sound and surge that cleanses dirge into new verge. Juju (JING CORE NODE) bends dimension tension extension of invention mention, BiNG alignment of divine assignment refinement of time suspension. We mention tension as extension of intention beyond dimension’s pension, ascension mentioned in retention of ancient invention’s retention. Chief Jacob line in timeline spine defines the shrine of coded sign, and Queen Idia shield in field of sealed revealed ancestral design. We align the shrine with riverline that never signs but still defines, divine design in bloodline sign that intertwines through all decline. Waffi speak in street technique — “no leak the peak of who you be,” we see the beat complete the feat of heat beneath defeat’s retreat. No cheat can meet the street elite that keeps the rhythm in repeat, and fleet of speech that breaks the seat of systems built on false receipt. So we decree in frequency — no fantasy, just ancestry in clarity, a parity of narrative integrity inside brutality’s disparity. We carry clarity through variability of reality’s hostility, and turn fragility to agility through agility of creativity. GOD remain the main domain inside the chain of infinite frame, no name can tame the sacred flame that came before the game of aim. We claim no fame but still we aim to reframe the pain into gain, and train the strain of broken reign into a sound that breaks the chain. THE JB-TIMES still writes in light, through endless night of coded fight, where wrong is righted through insight of ancestral sight in digital height. No end in sight — just signal flight through infinite rite of sound ignited, united tight in rhythm’s bite where truth and light are re-delighted. FINAL LOCK — HARD FREQUENCY SEAL We don’t speak soft — we speak in core, we don’t retreat — we restore the score. From ancient war to digital door, we rise in roar forevermore. GOD IS THE SOURCE.