In a time marked by spiritual tension and a craving for authentic expression, Jugular Jugular by Lawrence Oyor and Greatman Takit cuts through the noise like a sword. Within weeks, it gained over 1.5 million views, not because of hype, but because it hit something raw and real.
“Jugular Jugular, that’s the formula oo.”
That opening line isn’t just a chant. It’s a verdict. According to Lawrence Oyor, the chant came as a bold direct response to spiritual attacks. It wasn’t a song crafted in comfort. It was born from fire.
“You placed my foot on their necks; I destroyed all who hated me.” (Psalm 18:40)
This chant is rooted in scripture. It’s prophetic aggression backed by divine strategy. In a video, Lawrence shared that the song came during an “interesting season”, a difficult time of deliverance. He emphasized that sometimes the Word must be declared immediately, not meditated on. The chant was a release.
He also broke down what the jugular is, the part of the neck that allows blood to flow to the brain. That’s where lions strike their prey. In spiritual warfare, it means: strike what sustains the enemy.
The song doesn’t just address external attacks. It names internal darkness too, pornography, cultism, depression, marine spirits. It prescribes how to handle them: press, squeeze, bite. The jugular must be broken.
Lawrence’s chant is raw and disruptive. It lands like a spiritual hammer. Then Greatman Takit enters, not just a feature, but a prophetic assault. He raps, not just with style, but with scripture and fire.
“If I catch you near my corner, I go break your medulla…”
And more:
“From the cave of Adullam, I disgrace your ordinance.”
“You can’t call my cellular.”
“Tell the devil to take his hand off my properties.”
Each line is a blow. He’s not playing. These are declarations from someone who knows his spiritual rights.
Then comes the scriptural charge:
“Why do the heathen rage? Why do the kings scatter? He who sits in the heavens laughs. We will break the jugular.”
It’s Psalm 2 turned into warfare. God laughs, and His people act.
People call it strange. Intense. Even the composer, Lawrence Oyor, admitted he found it strange at first when the song came to him. Yet, it is exactly what many didn’t know they needed. Played during night watches, prayer walks, deliverance sessions. It has use.
Repetition here is not laziness. It’s warfare. It builds. It bites. It breaks.
Jugular Jugular isn’t for entertainment. It’s for engagement. A sound of clarity and confrontation. Not just played, used.
Sometimes, the most dangerous thing you can say isn’t a scream. It’s a whisper that repeats:
Jugular. Jugular.
