Smif-n-wessun - Sound Bwoy Bureill lyrics

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 ba*tard/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 n***as 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 s**/me ruff like the wicked you fe me/ The motherf**er 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 k**a/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 k**a/ My man wit the weed/is my man in deed/ And all you s**y-ducky n***as 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 co*k/ Adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy walk/ Nuff p**yhole 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 n***as wit de chicken pox/ So/emcees get lifted when i'm spliffted/ n***a guard ya grill/cause louisville packs the biscut/ In the session/smif n wessun/o-g's see/gun clapper number 1/ Wit my n***a 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...