| Boom bye bye/in a botty bwoy head/
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| the shottie fly now/the botty ly like dead/
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| 2 shots dead to him chin/enemy a friend/
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| fake the funk/I put the junk to an end/
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| Now who da rude bwoy/wan come tess dogg/
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| I find his family/and I.D. |
| em in da morgue/
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| I bet you never thought I bust led/
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| To prize/I'm a fortified blunt head just like a dread/
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| You cant tess the champion sound/You gettin bucked down/
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| recognize the boot camp click/in a de Bucktown/
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| Gun thirsty little bastard/always blasted/
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| from the sess of chocolate/from my dick gastin/
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| You say you number one wicked selecta/
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| I say you punani/and I wetcha/
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| Keep the bull/before I pull this here trigga/
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| cause you don’t wanna tess me/when I’m tipsy off the liquor/
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| Like a punk they call McGirt/got his feelings hurt/
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| showed his true colors/had to yank up his skirt/
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| now he’s in misery/tryin to cop a plea/
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| led to his head/from gun clapper number 3/
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| see/lick off a shot you no dick rida/
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| lick a shot punani/not gun fire/
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| Now everybody wanna be dongongon/
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| all around New York niggas be talkin/but we be stalkin/
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| in the docks when the gun starts buckin/
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| but in the day/be wary of where you be walkin/
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| DON’T…DON'T…DON'T you ever mention bout you wan
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| tess the champion sound/
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| leave it to de people that can you know that can
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| when people see them a ball fa LEAVE!
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| Verse Two:
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| Me naw sex/me ruff like the wicked you fe me/
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| the motherfucker that be buggin over truth you see/
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| original/criminal/run in town/crime pays/
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| thats when I practised/your act if/you wan get blasted
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| by my nine shot/come around my block/pon the night spot/
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| in the Pine box/Murderah…Botty bwoy killa/Golden power filla/
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| we bout to get illa/
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| Sound bwoy/ya got nuff reason to worry/
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| cummin wit my troops/we about to bury/
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| betta pack ya dubs and move in a hurry/Ease off sean/
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| Lookin at my pager/it's about that time/
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| to load up the 9/and do my derelict crime/
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| warriors/conquerors/the man before ya/
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| Mr. Ripper/a.k.a. |
| the enemy killa/
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| my man wit the weed/is my man in deed/
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| and all you sucky-ducky niggas catch nots wit speed/
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| Talkin bout you have sound/ah my sound you wan tess/
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| You neva know/that when it comes to championship/
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| is we dat have de management/
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| and carry mack/use you for good use/cuz wee de good crew
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| LEAVE!
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| Verse Three:
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| Laud!/Some bwoy wan get dead tonite duke/
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| as I retrieve the 2−5 from my timboots/
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| Target pon sight/trick up and cock/
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| adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy walk/
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| Nuff pussyhole gwan die dis year/
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| here comes the bootcamp/slide it to the rear/
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| Its the rain cummin like a hurricane lickin shots/
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| more untouchable/than niggas wit de chicken pox/
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| So/emcees get lifted when I’m spliffted/
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| Nigga guard ya grill/cause Louisville packs the biscut/
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| In the session/Smif N Wessun/O-G's see/gun clapper number 1/
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| wit my nigga D-O-G…
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| We bring the realness/feel this/boom it’s Black Moon reveal
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| this/
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| we come to let you know/what the deal is/
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| Straight up we serve justice/so if you can’t be trusted/
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| may you return where the dust is.
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| There is many sound thats goin around/and goin on/
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| and gwan like a clown/but I’m tellin you. |
| Clean up your act/
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| and come to de livestock cuz you a deadstock from mornin to de evenin/now everthing changed… |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Sound Bwoy Bureill , by - Smif-N-Wessun. Song from the album Dah Shinin', in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп