| It started on the sands of land of the mother | 
| Word to mother, king like my father | 
| My style survived slave ships, whips, and chains, hardships | 
| Still through all this the praise roll off my lips | 
| Bring your guns, chains and tone force your religion | 
| On me cut my hair, the vibes still exist | 
| To destroy the molesters of my heritage | 
| But they conceal the drums of evil, my loyal lineage | 
| King of kings, God of gods | 
| Like my ancestors drums I beat the odds | 
| More mics killed than slaves during the middle passages | 
| Who rapes and ravages and calls us savage? | 
| Jungle bunny, I’m not mo’funny, I’m mo’deadly | 
| They know one day we’ll learn how to use it That’s why they fear our jungle music | 
| (Premier scratches In the J-U-N-G-L-E) | 
| We went from pyramids to the ghetto | 
| Still my sounds make devils tumble like the walls of Jerico | 
| Chant my paower to devour all the snakes and rats | 
| Extrasensory perception to avoid all traps | 
| Make a joyful noise unto the Lord | 
| In the sancuary of your caves white kids press record | 
| As my mystic music spread from sea to galaxy | 
| It’s inevitable, you can’t stop me Try to carbon copy, but it always comes out sloppy | 
| You can’t outrap me, you can’t outrock me Like the dreads on my head, you try and lock me Down underground, but I bounce to the jungle | 
| Melodies, that flows like the breeze | 
| Through the trees, like my forefathers, command the wind and seas | 
| With my jungle music | 
| (Premier does his thing) | 
| Unga bunga binga | 
| Sound warrior, I’ll take your head more than a rap singer | 
| Enlightener, with the mitre | 
| Make the forces of my nature smite ya Over the airwaves, powers are released | 
| Holy music destroy the savage beast | 
| I’ll beat the devil like a Niyabini drummer | 
| Beasts his drum, this beat will drum through the summer | 
| Try to hold us back with all the strength you can muster | 
| You’ll hear a sound similar to the one Custer | 
| Heard before he got ambushed, you’ll get ambushed | 
| For taking this back to Kush | 
| For too long you’ve abused it On the low used it, and called it jungle music | 
| (Premier scratches) |