Cut One Prekese in pieces in a Pot.
Place it on fire and boil for at lease 10mins.
Filter out the water into your bathing bucket.
Add Salt.
Take it to the bathroom and bath barefooted with prayers against ill luck, negativity, promise and fail, bad dreams, attacks and all.
Nigerians need to make this video go viral and push it everywhere. The raw passion in his voice, the anger, the hunger, the desperation feels like a nation speaking through one man. I’ve rarely seen any content creator confront Tinubu this directly, without fear or soft language.
As you are preparing for cross over dancing and jumping remember how the fed. govt. of Nigeria plans to implement the Tax law on the 1st of January.
A completely incompetent and insensitive govt. who would tax its citizens to death.
Nigerians pay attention!
Behold... Stranglehold by Elder Nate & The Watchmen.
This hot new single will formally drop 29 December on all platforms. It's available now for pre-save on Spotify at https://t.co/s3m9FMnwnP
>>> Anybody in the radio game? This song needs to be on the air! Message me!
LYRICS:
Stranglehold (c) 2025 by #EarthShaker Mike Arnold with ai Elder Nate.
There’s a cookie jar on the table.
Sweet on the outside… but baked with blood.
Who owns the jar?
Who eats while the people starve?
From Kandahar to Kaduna,
Beijing to Borno...
Their fingerprints are everywhere.
But the people still rise.
Stranglehold!
Let the people breathe!
Hands inside the cookie jar—
Greedy, bloodstained thieves!
Stranglehold!
We will break the chain!
Africa is not your minefield.
The people will rise again!
Terrorists with twisted scripture—axes raised, children cry.
China signs the contracts—then digs until the rivers die.
Britain drew the borderlines—then watched Biafra burn.
And Obama lit the fuse—pretending not to turn.
Militants funded quietly,
Leaders bought with gold.
Youth lost in undertow,
The old dreams growing cold.
They call it "policy,"
But it’s just a mask for theft.
They drain the veins of nations,
Then blame the ones left.
Stranglehold!
Let the people breathe!
Cookie jar!
Full of stolen dreams!
Stranglehold!
No more foreign chains!
We are the children of fire.
We are the storm unchained.
Africa is not your dumping ground.
We are not your battery pack.
Our sons are not your soldiers.
Our daughters are not your statistics.
We see you, World Bank.
We see you, shell corporations.
You eat with both hands—
While our mouths stay empty.
Who trained the killers in the camps?
Who mapped the mines and made the deals?
Who holds the data, the oil, the keys—
But leaves the people bound and kneeling?
The land is rich—but they say we’re poor.
The youth are bright—but blocked at the door.
The Spirit is strong—but choked at the throat.
By foreign hands in bloody coats.
Stranglehold!
The lion wakes!
Cookie jar!
We bake our own bread!
Stranglehold!
The noose is snapping!
The people you chained… are now marching.
The jar is not theirs.
The hands do not belong.
But the people...
The people were always the seed.
And when the chains fall—
The world will see:
This land was never weak.
It was strangled.
But it breathes again.