album cover
artist
Chris Bass
The Cauldron
Underground Rap
The Cauldron was released on January 20, 2026 by dOgbOx studios as a part of the album The Cauldron - Single
album cover
AlbumThe Cauldron - Single
Release DateJanuary 20, 2026
LabeldOgbOx studios
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM71

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Chris Bass
Chris Bass
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Christopher John Lambert
Christopher John Lambert
Lyrics, Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ciecmate
Ciecmate
Co-Producer
Christopher John Lambert
Christopher John Lambert
Producer

Lyrics

What you got in your cauldron?
What's bubbling in your cauldron?
What you got in your cauldron?
Oi, what you got?
What you got in your cauldron?
What's bubbling in your cauldron?
What you got in your cauldron?
Oi, what you got?
First I lock the doors, gimme some mojo rising
Make sure the water's clear, it gives some credence to reviving
Using sound, rhyme and science, open up some new horizons
It's time to pass the coochie, just like the mighty diamonds
The recipe was born in New Orleans, so this is gumbo
Blowing the heat like Satchmo, he knows the mumbo jumbo
It originates in Africa and brews through the blues
Destination well stated, it has one and only use
The spell lasts a lifetime, that lifetime is mine
When it's frozen in the vinyl, love will live for all of time
This is black magic, only in the sense it's magic vinyl
And the spell has no reversal, the effects are truly final
But if you must know the secrets, then listen very close
'Cause it's easy to go comatose with each and any dose
It's a beautiful balance of an eternity of talents
Very few are capable to taste the space that it inhabits
Well, well, well
Three holes in the ground, I guess you need to know the spell
Well, well, well
Three holes in the ground, I guess you need to know the spell
On a Black Sabbath, pluck a hair from Uncle George's beard
Distilling the funk when feeling the funk, it hits you sorta weird
Maintain the status quo by taking the cure in small doses
Be careful 'cause that goth rock can lead to halitosis
I brew Bootsy's mutron, E. E. Dury's new boots on
A drop of cosmic slop to get my funkadelic roots on
Fragments of Maggot Brain, witch hazel sustain
Game dames and guitar thangs and a dash of howling wolfsbane
A drop of Muddy Waters, Tupperware from on the corner
Bathed in a mad cat's laugh and some secrets from the saucers
Obtained on a quest that came from the chest of midnight marauders
Hell is voodoo that you do from the book of Cole Porter
Stirred under the moon glow of the lady days, gaze
Under fire from a voodoo child bathed in purple haze
Strained through a pork pie hat from the angry man of jazz
Grate and goosie, jazzmatazz from Quincy's razzmatazz
Well, well, well
Three holes in the ground, I guess you need to know the spell
Well, well, well
Three holes in the ground, I guess you need to know the spell
Throw a mojo hand in the cooker from John Lee Hooker
Stacks of Jackson green onions and a load of tea from Booker
Now let Santana spin it with the song of the wind
Begin to make it wild like the thin white dude and stir it in
Stir it up like Bob Marley, channel an interstellar space flight
Coltrane and Rushing Harley, drifting on a reed from Charlie
Throw in a stone from Sly, the wings of Super Fly
Sick 'em like a Led Zeppelin, busting up like Austin Peay
Get it hot like lava by the B-52
Sizzling hot like Sade parlay with the sweetest taboo
Call it a gut feeling, an uncontrollable urge
This is one man's de-evolution and for this there is no purge
Thrice the brinded cat has mewed from Jimi Hammond imbued
On pigs, three different ones, Gilmore Stratocaster skewed
'Tis time, 'tis time, get a fuzz face on the line
Echorec and univine and to offend the twin design
Well, well, well
Three holes in the ground, I guess you need to know the spell
Well, well, well
Three holes in the ground, I guess you need to know the spell
Buffalo gals round the outside, the wheels of fire explode
Ginger stranger's brew, hurting venomous minutes of the toad
Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and reggae bubble
Winston right here on the double for the liquidator shuffle
Crawling king snake busting down Buster Brown
Eye of Tony Newton, tall frogman Henry, Crescent City is the town
Hair of Ozzy's bat, feeling that upon my canine tongue
Fork of Cannibal Adderley, soul zodiac the sun
Worm sting of a stolen band, no policing what is done
Ira rocks with the Upsteaders, they provide the lizard tongue
Night owl wing of Wilson Pickett, ooh, the dragon, can you dig it?
Chester Bennett's fanger, banger, bitches brew from Jack DeJohnette
West Side Story, Shark Girls, roots of hemlock from the dark world
Mixed with Lenny Bruce's liver while the Rolling Stones deliver
Goat's head soup while the trees are
Screaming so much that they quiver
Dylan's nose, Stravinsky's lips mixed with Little Richard's finger
Charlie Sheen, tiger blood, three drops mad like Mandrill
Douse the grill and let it chill until they're stilled up in the hills
Mad monks like Thelonious to bring it to completion
Cast your gaze and watch you summon up the big faced demon
That's what I got in my cauldron
That's my brew, my hoodoo, my voodoo, my cauldron
That's what I got in my cauldron
That's what I got
That's what I got in my cauldron
That's my brew, my hoodoo, my voodoo, my cauldron
That's what I got in my cauldron
That's what I got
Written by: Christopher John Lambert

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