Текст:
Illegal guns
They roam the night
In hungry hands
Waiting to bite
The first sign of
Any food in sight
Youths in the dark
Searching for light
Hard time they face
Is not a choice
Police curfew
Is no surprise
And with no one
To be there voice
Do they stand a chance?
Where theres, more hungry mouths

Then food to eat
Where you find those who

Claim to lead

Because of all there personal greed
They always want more than they need

They dont help those

Below the Ave
Instead they stand aside and laugh

As if its all well ever ask

When will they make a change?

Its like a punk never check

Or dem did forget

We nature naughty

Ah true mi go born uptown

Tell dem fools dont cross me

Thats only where Cindy brought me

And thats why they cant impress me

With no boasty car

Me know dat ah kill dem softly

And then theyre not

Really even who they think they are

Theyre not really moving crafty

Mi get fi understand

Say them plan dem faulty

Well nuff a dem a twenty

And favor forty

Filthy rich big belly

And hearty

Di real Gideon will

Be arriving shortly

Rasta nuh beat Binghi

Drum we claatt it

We live longer

Cause we food nuh salty

We grow stronger

And dem cant assault we

So haile Rastafari love

And exhalt it