Текст песни
Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye
(3x)
Ring the alarm, I don't want to stay calm cause
I'm about to rip this psalm
When the mic is gripped my lyrics do split up like
Bombs from Vietnam
Cause I'm sweet, neat, I don't romp or skinteet
Lyrics I lick with my tongue
And rhymes I nymn with my teeth
This lyrical prophet you can't stop this from the West Indies
You can tell I'm a lyrical prophet from the words spoken and broken up
In these books and scrolls that I unfold
The knowledge I use does make me bold
The intelligence in my system
Converts itself and becomes wisdom
Born in Trinidad, not Tobogo, land of steel pan and calypso
Cyop is a buck and a buck is a cyop
That's the real true thing and a natural fact
This lyrical man you can't hold me back
From the red, the white, and also the black
Island, which is my land, my place of birth
You can tell by the tongue that's swung
And the lyrical structure in me verse
So all MC's don't cross this border
Cause by now you should know sort of
Lyrically wise but now I despise
All youth that's out of order
Don't try to test any of the Schnikens
Cause I'm not done with the lyrical boxin'
The beatin' and the lickin'
Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye
(3x)
You two-facety, you can't face me
And my rhymes you'll bite and learn
Soon you'll acknowledge my lyrical substance just like a bookworm
Chip FU, then you will extend and show all the youth them
That me big boutcha under roots and culture
And the bad bull in the pen
Because when I grip the mic (yes, man)
All MC's they do stop yes and hush
Any mic I touch, any mic I brush, any mic I clutch
With these lyrical styles of such
And if I do unleash a lyrical masterpiece
Lyrics never cease, then a piece I'll unleash and make it brief