Sound Bwoy Bureill

Lyrics

[Intro: Clement Irie "Sound Boy Get Kuff" sample] "We are the winning champion sound You cannot cross the border, 'cause we alkaline body You will come, we'll kill you already and you and your fronting ass There is no form of threat to we come When it come to lyrics, we have it, so come!" [Verse 1: Top Dog] Boom bye bye in a batty bwoy head The shottie fly, now the batty guy lie dead Two shots dead to him chin; enemy or friend Fake the funk, I put the junk to an end Now who the rude bwoy wan' come test Dog? I find his family to I.D. him in the morgue I bet you never thought I bust lead—surprise! I'm a fortified blunt head, just like mi dread [Verse 2: Tek] You try test The champion sound, you getting bucked down Recognize the Boot Camp Clik out of Bucktown Gun-thirsty little bastard, always blasted From the sacks of chocolate off Mother Gaston You say you number one wicked selector I say you punnany and I'll wet ya Keep the bul,l 'fore I pull this here trigger 'Cause you don't wanna test me when I'm tipsy off the liquor Like the punk they called McGirt; got his feelings hurt Showed his true colors, had to yank up his skirt – now he's in misery Trying to cop a plea Lead to him head from Gunn Clappa Numba Three, see Lick off a shot, you no dick-rider Lick a shot, punnany, not gunfire [Verse 3: Steele] Now Everybody wanna be Don Gorgon All around New York, niggas be talking, but we be stalking In the dark's when the gun starts barking But in the day, be wary of where you be walking [Interlude 1: Gregory Isaacs "Ruler For the Dance" sample] "Don't! Don't! Don't you ever mention 'bout you wan' test the champion sound! Leave it to the people rough kind! You know that we're kind to people Them come-a, we never fall far – leave!" [Verse 4: Steele] Me nah Sex, me rough like the wicked youth in me That motherfucker that be bugging off of truth he see Original criminal running town Crime pays—that's what I practice, so act if You wan' get blasted by my nine shot Come around my block, find a nice spot in a pine box Murderer, batty bwoy killer Colin Powell feeler, we 'bout to get iller [Verse 5: Tek] Sound bwoy, you got 'nough reason to worry Coming with my troops, we about to bury Better pack your dubs and move in a hurry Ease off, seen? Looking at my pager, it's about that time To load up the nine and do my daily crime Warriors, conquerors, the man before ya Mr. Rippa, A.K.A. the enemy killer My man with the weed is my man indeed And all you sucky-ducky niggas catch knots with speed [Interlude 2: Gregory Peck "False Sound" sample] "Talking 'bout you have sound?!? And my sound you wan' test?!? You'll never know that, when it come to championship It's we that of the management that current spasmic on you The fake-funking crew! Leave!" [Verse 6: Tek] Lord, some bwoy gwan get dead tonight, duke As I retrieve the two-five from my Timb boots Target 'pon sight, trigger 'pon cock Adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy walk 'Nough pussyhole gwan die this year Here comes the Boot Camp sliding to the rear [Verse 7: Starang Wondah] Starang coming like a hurricane, licking shots More untouchable than niggas with the Chickenpox So emcees get lifted when I'm spliffted Nigga, guard your grill, 'cause Louieville packs the biscuit In the session, Smif-N-Wessun, O.G.C.  Gunn Clappa Numba One with my nigga, D-O-G [Verse 8: Steele] We bring the realness Feel this boom as Black Moon reveal this We come to let you know what the deal is Straight up, we serve justice, so if You can't be trusted, may you return where the dust is [Outro: King Everald "Send Fi the King" sample] "There is many sound that's going around and going around Going like a clown, but I'm telling you Clean up your walk and come to the lights Sucker, you are dead, stuck from morning and always evening 'Til everything's dead"