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...