Street 66

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."