X-amount a tings
|
Boot Camp Click Blackhart Scanvenger ridin through
|
|
Proceed mean forward
|
gunshots mean rewind
|
you requested it so re-rewind re-rewind
|
oh..cocoa brothers pon de borderline
|
tess my sound and your dead same time...
|
|
Verse One:
|
|
Boom bye bye in a botty bwoy head
|
the shottie fly now the botty gon lie 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 tess the top dawg
|
I find his family to i.d. him in the 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 my boot camp click/outta Bucktown/
|
Gun thirsty little bastard/always blasted/
|
from the sess of cocoa/from mutha 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 every man wan 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
|
You see Sound Bureil and we dont take dat fi fun
|
Its the Boot Camp Click
|
and you your gettin done
|
me sing Sound Bureil and we dont take dat fi fun
|
it's the Blackhart Scavenger you know your gettin done
|
me sing Sound Bureil and we dont take dat fi fun
|
tess Smif N Wessun rasta know your gettin done
|
but me say Sound Bureil and we dont take dat fi fun
|
tess de Boot Camp Click and you know your gettin done
|
me sing....
|
|
Verse Two:
|
|
Me naw sex/me ruff like the wicked you fe me/
|
the the other half/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/L in 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 seen/
|
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/
|
|
Chorus
|
|
You see Sound Bureil and we dont take dat fi fun
|
tess de Boot Camp Click
|
you your gettin done
|
me sing Sound Bureil and we dont take dat fi fun
|
tess de Smif N Wessun and you know your gettin done
|
me say..
|
|
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/hurricane still lickin shots/
|
more untouchable than niggas wit the chicken pox/
|
dreads and fros out to get the dough like this quick
|
from now until Louisville still packs the biscuit
|
Nighty now..Smif N Wessun, O.G.C.'s its the beast from the east
|
wit gun clapper number 3
|
|
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...
|
|
Outro:
|
|
You know..Sound Bwoy dead so we lick off dem head man for real
|
its Smif N Wessun long side Blackhart Scavenger
|
ridin through and when we look a when we look and say...
|
tell dem fi come if a trouble dem want
|
boy we a go lick dem wit de finesse and charm
|
| Tell dem fi come if a tro |