GUITAR DRUMS WHISKEY

MASTA is more than a band it’s three characters connected by one sound. >>> - MASTA the man who answered. >>> - LIL’ MASTA the heart and elegance of the crew. >>> - RED MASTA the voice that crossed the stars from LUMAX. [INTRO] [TAPE HISS] [LO-FI DRUM LOOP] [DETUNED WAH GUITAR SWELL] ª ªªªª ª ªª ª ª ªªªª ª ªª ª haa… haa… ª rmmm… ª nana… ª nana… huu… huu… haa-aa… wake slow… [VERSE 1] Guitar on the table, drums in the wall, whiskey in the glass like a dare to us all. Needle on the record, hand on the brake, whole room crooked when the low-end shakes. I came through dusty with the night in my coat, rough little rhythm and a fire in my throat. No polished sermon, no velvet disguise, just six strings talking and a kick drum reply. I got old-school pockets with a new-school bite, bassline crawling like a snake through the light. Flute in the corner goes high, then bends, reggae smoke rhythm where the backbeat ends. (Yeah!) Step, drag, lean, let the floorboards know, one hand on the tempo, one hand down low. If the room gets quiet, turn the reel back quick— guitar, drums, whiskey, that's the whole damn trick. [PRE-CHORUS] (Uhhh uhhhhhhhh) Pour one measure, let the snare hit twice, wah guitar grinning with a dangerous spice. No map, no manners, no clean-cut plan, just a beat in the chest and a glass in the hand. [CHORUS] Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Three little reasons why the room gets risky. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Kick hit heavy and the riff gets gritty. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Raise that rhythm till the whole place hears me. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Backspin drop and the night gets busy. [DROP] (uh uh uh uh) [808 SUB + CROOKED PERCUSSION] [Relaxing Hook - Reverb Voice] Ah-Ahh Ahhhhhhhh Ah-Ahh Ahhhhhhhh [VERSE 2] Boot heel tapping on a cracked wood floor, drummer wants one, so I give him four. Guitar bites back with a sand-dry tone, flute curls upward like a cobra from stone. I talk sideways, rough edge, half-sung grin, bars come loose when the toms roll in. Old cypher circle, everybody gets space, then the trap hats scatter and accelerate pace. No tux, no roses, no chandelier glow, just sweat on the amp and the needle down low. One sip warm, one chord mean, one snare slap keeps the picture obscene. (oohhhh baby) If the bottle talks, I don't answer it long, I let the six-string argue inside the song. Then the DJ cuts where the whole thing bends rewind that second, let it happen again. [PRE-CHORUS] (oooooooh oooooooh ooooooh) Pour one measure, let the snare hit twice, wah guitar grinning with a dangerous spice. Bass gets deeper, brass starts to climb, then the flute slips through at the edge of time. [CHORUS] Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Three little reasons why the room gets risky. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Kick hit heavy and the riff gets gritty. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Raise that rhythm till the whole place hears me. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Backspin drop and the night gets busy. [BRIDGE] [DRUMS CUT TO VINYL + LOW GUITAR HUM] ahhhhh ahhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhh Noooo ohhh ohhh (half-whisper) One chord. One glass. One beat that refuses to pass. Then the room leans in three, two, one [FINAL DROP] [DRAMATIC SOUL BRASS + FULL DRUM BREAK] Yeah! Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! [FINAL CHORUS] Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Three little reasons why the room gets risky. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Low-end dirty, but the hook stays pretty. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Six strings crying while the snare gets busy. Guitar! Drums! Whiskey! Spin that record bring it back with me. [OUTRO] [TAPE HISS, FLUTE REFRAIN, GUITAR FEEDBACK] ª ªªªª ª ªª ª uu… uuuu haa… Ah-Ahh Ahhhhhhhh (whisper) Guitar… drums… whiskey…