SINGER: Smif N Wessun

SONG:Sound Bwoy Bureill

Verse one:

Boom bye bye/in a botty bwoy head/
The shottie fly now/the botty ly like dead/
2 shots dead to him chin/enemy a friend/
Fake the funk/i put the junk to an end/
Now who da rude bwoy/wan come tess dogg/
I find his family/and i.d. em in da morgue/
I bet you never thought i bust led/
To prize/i'm a fortified blunt head just like a dread/

You cant tess the champion sound/you gettin bucked down/
Recognize the boot camp click/in a de bucktown/
Gun thirsty little bastard/always blasted/
From the sess of chocolate/from my dick gastin/
You say you number one wicked selecta/
I say you punani/and i wetcha/
Keep the bull/before i pull this here trigga/
Cause you don't wanna tess me/when i'm tipsy off the liquor/
Like a punk they call mcgirt/got his feelings hurt/
Showed his true colors/had to yank up his skirt/
Now he's in misery/tryin to cop a plea/
Led to his head/from gun clapper number 3/
See/lick off a shot you no dick rida/
Lick a shot punani/not gun fire/

Now everybody wanna be dongongon/
All around new york niggas be talkin/but we be stalkin/
In the docks when the gun starts buckin/
But in the day/be wary of where you be walkin/

Chorus
Don't...don't....don't you ever mention bout you wan
Tess the champion sound/
Leave it to de people that can you know that can
When people see them a ball fa
Leave!

Verse two:

Me naw sex/me ruff like the wicked you fe me/
The motherfucker that be buggin over truth you see/
Original/criminal/run in town/crime pays/
Thats when i practised/your act if/you wan get blasted
By my nine shot/come around my block/pon the night spot/
In the pine box/murderah...botty bwoy killa/golden power filla/
We bout to get illa/

Sound bwoy/ya got nuff reason to worry/
Cummin wit my troops/we about to bury/
Betta pack ya dubs and move in a hurry/ease off sean/
Lookin at my pager/it's about that time/
To load up the 9/and do my derelict crime/
Warriors/conquerors/the man before ya/
Mr. ripper/a.k.a. the enemy killa/
My man wit the weed/is my man in deed/
And all you sucky-ducky niggas catch nots wit speed/

Talkin bout you have sound/ah my sound you wan tess/
You neva know/that when it comes to championship/
Is we dat have de management/
And carry mack/use you for good use/cuz wee de good crew
Leave!

Verse three:

Laud!/some bwoy wan get dead tonite duke/
As i retrieve the 2-5 from my timboots/
Target pon sight/trick up and cock/
Adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy walk/
Nuff pussyhole gwan die dis year/
Here comes the bootcamp/slide it to the rear/
Its the rain cummin like a hurricane lickin shots/
More untouchable/than niggas wit de chicken pox/
So/emcees get lifted when i'm spliffted/
Nigga guard ya grill/cause louisville packs the biscut/
In the session/smif n wessun/o-g's see/gun clapper number 1/
Wit my nigga d-o-g....

We bring the realness/feel this/boom it's 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..

There is many sound thats goin around/and goin on/
And gwan like a clown/but i'm tellin you..clean up your act/
And come to de livestock cuz you a deadstock from mornin to de
Evenin/now everthing changed...