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Street 66 (Johnson Linton Kwesi)

The room was dark Dusk howling softly 6 o'clock Charcoal light The fine sight Was moving black The sound was music mellow steady flow And man son mind just mystic red, green, red, green Your scene No man would dance but leap and shake That sharp through feeling right Shape that sound Tumbling down Making movement, ruff enuff Cos when the music met I-tops(?) I felt the sting, knew the shock, yeah, had to do and ride the rock Outta dis rock shall come a greener riddim Even more dread than what the breeze of glory bred Vibrating violence is our own(?) move Rocking with green rhythm The drought and dry root out The mighty poet I Roy was on the wire Weston did a skank and each man laugh and feeling irie, dread I Street 66, the said man said Any policeman come here will get some righteous, raasclot licks Yeah mon, whole heapa licks Ours(?) beat, the scene moving right When all on a sudden Bam, bam, bam, a knocking pon the door "Who is dat?", aksed Weston, feeling right "Open up, it's the police, come on, open up" "What address do you want?" "Number 66, come on, open up" Weston, feeling high, replied, "Yes, this is Street 66, step right in and take some licks."