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 bastard/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 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
 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 sex/me ruff like the wicked you fe me/
 the motherfucker 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/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 killa/
 my man wit the weed/is my man in deed/
 and all you sucky-ducky niggas 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 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 cummin like a hurricane lickin shots/
 more untouchable/than niggas wit de chicken pox/
 So/emcees get lifted when I'm spliffted/
 Nigga guard ya grill/cause Louisville packs the biscut/
 In the session/Smif N Wessun/O-G's see/gun clapper number 1/
 wit my nigga 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