Willie Perdomo - The Birth of Shorty Bon Bon (Take #3) lyrics

The salseros, the real-live soneros, The palo-players that gang-busted dancehalls with fish-crate yambú; the tumberos who recorded the earth in clay jugs, whose steel-beam shoulders held up skies until shing-a-ling floors were occupied by the perfect fourth of democracy; the quintets that crashed baptisms and plucked concert hall from park bench and band shell, who glittered airwaves without commission, who changed their names from Joe Loco to Joe Panama, Joe Ponce to Joe Cuba, who Caktsk**'d then Corso'd, who vamped it up and whistled evil out of garden—their Africando was so hot, co-op boards had to call the police—this take is for the cocolos who carried a nation on their crazy, on their cool: What you can say about Shorty Bon Bon is that he never never Crossed the clave. He knew It was all dirt at the end.