Their debut LP, Dah Shinin', followed soon thereafter, unleashing more heavy artillery from the military-minded BCC. With a canvas of dark, gluttonous beats provided by the gifted Beatminerz production squad, the duo expanded the limits of harsh sounding, neck-snapping hip-hop by adding a melodic element. The crew released their album during the heyday of one of the '90s most influential independent hip-hop labels, Nervous Wreck Records, which many other indies (Rawkus) have patterned themselves around. Their name alone implies violence, but the weaponry they deploy is also of the verbal variety. Tek and Steele both possess signature flows, the former a bit more straight-laced while the latter showcases West Indian influences. Dah Shinin' was a focused album with a sharp compacted sound that still contained depth, albeit strictly from the dark side.
Forced to reincarnate themselves after a legal battle with the Smith and Wesson firearm company, the duo resurfaced in 1997 as the Cocoa Brovaz, a reference to their heritage and also to their marijuana fixation. Their second album (and first as the Cocoa Bs), 1998's The Rude Awakening, was a more sprawling and chaotic venture, as well as being a shade more frighteningly dark. Since 1998, the two partners have released a few singles, including "Super Brooklyn," which features a superbly innovative use of a sample from the old Super Mario Bros. Nintendo game.
They got signed to leading underground record label Rawkus Records but never released an album on the label. Thay joined back up with the Boot Camp Clik in 2002 for the album The Chosen Few. In September 2005, they returned as Smif-N-Wessun for the album Reloaded.
Sound Bwoy Bureill
Smif-n-Wessun Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
You cannot cross the border cah we alkaline body
You weh come, we kill you already
And you and yuh followers dem
Is no form of threat to we
Cah when it come to lyrics, we have it, so come
Boom bye bye in a batty bwoy head
Two shots dead to him chin, enemy or friend
Fake the funk, I put the junk to an end
Now who the rude bwoy wan' come test, doh?
I find his family to I.D. him in the morgue
I bet you never thought I bust lead, surprise
I'm a fortified blunt head just like me dread
You can't test the champion sound, you gettin' bucked down
Recognize the Boot Camp Clik out of Bucktown
Gun-thirsty little bastard, always blasted
From the sacks of chocolate off Mother Gaston
You say you're number one wicked selector
I say you punnany and I'll wet ya
Keep the bull 'fore I pull this here trigger
'Cause you don't wanna test me when I'm tipsy off the liquor
Like the punk they called McGirt, got his feelings hurt
Showed his true colors, had to yank up his skirt
Now he's in misery, tryna cop a plea
Lead to him head from Gunn Clappa Numba Three, see
Lick off a shot, you no dick-rider
Lick off shot, punnany, not pon fire
Now everybody wan be Don Gorgon
All around New York, niggas be talkin', but we be stalkin'
In the docks when the gun starts barkin'
But in the day, be wary of where you be walkin'
Don't, don't, don't
You ever mention 'bout you wan' test the champion sound
Leave it to di people dem
Cah you know that when time di people dem come
Ah we dem ah ball for
Leave
Me nah sex, me rough like the wicked youth in me
The motherfucker that be buggin' over truth, you see
Original, criminal run the town, crime pays
That's what I practice, so act
If you wan' get blasted by my nine shot
Come around my block pon the night spot in the Pine box
Murderer, batty bwoy killa
Colin Powell filla, we 'bout to get illa
Sound bwoy, you got nuff reason to worry
Coming wit' my troops, we about to bury
Betta pack ya dubs and move in a hurry, ease off, zeen?
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 knots wit' speed
Talkin' 'bout you have sound
Ah my sound you wan' test?
You neva know that when it comes to championship
Is we that have di management and correspond wid good yute
To sing for good crew
Leave
Lawd, some bwoy gwan get dead tonight, duke
As I retrieve the .25 from my Timboots
Target pon sight, trigga pon cock
Adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy walk
Nuff pussyhole gwan die dis year
Here comes the boot camp, slide it to the rear
Strain coming like a hurricane lickin' shots
More untouchable than niggas wit' the chicken pox
So, emcees get lifted when I'm spliffted
Nigga guard ya grill 'cause Louisville packs the biscuit
In the session Smif-N-Wessun OG's see gun clapper number one
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 that's goin' around and goin' on
And gwan like a clown, but I'm tellin' you, clean up your act
And come to di livestock cah you a deadstock from mornin' to de
And now is evening, time fi tings change (you must be a fool)
(Oh, Jesus, you already dead, bwoy)
The lyrics to Smif-n-Wessun's "Sound Bwoy Bureill" speak to the rivalry between musical sound systems within the Jamaican dancehall culture. In particular, the song references "sound bwoys," the selectors who operate the sound systems and are responsible for choosing the music that gets played at dancehall events. The lyrics describe violent imagery of shooting and killing, suggesting that the Smif-n-Wessun crew will eliminate anyone who they deem to be a threat to their dominance in the scene. They also mock rival sound systems, referring to them as "nasty man" and "punani," and warn them to stay away if they don't want to face the consequences. The song portrays a sense of danger and aggression, with a focus on asserting power and proving oneself as the best sound system around.
Overall, "Sound Bwoy Bureill" captures the intensity and competitiveness that characterizes the Jamaican dancehall culture. The lyrics reflect the belief that one's sound system is an extension of oneself and must be fiercely defended, even if that means resorting to violence. The song's aggressive tone and vivid imagery make it a standout in the world of hip hop and reggae, highlighting the raw energy and passion that runs through the music of these genres.
Line by Line Meaning
Weh y'ah go wid di champion sound?
Where are you trying to go with the champion sound?
You cannot cross the border cah we alkaline body
You cannot cross the border because our strong and powerful bodies will stop you
You weh come, we kill you already
You, who have arrived, we have already killed
And you and yuh followers dem
And you and your followers
Is no form of threat to we
Are not a threat to us
Cah when it come to lyrics, we have it, so come
Because when it comes to lyrics, we excel, so come and face us
Boom bye bye in a batty bwoy head
Shoot and kill a gay man
The shottie fly, now the batty guy lie dead
The shotgun was fired, now the gay man lies dead
Two shots dead to him chin, enemy or friend
Two shots hit him in the chin, whether he is an enemy or a friend
Fake the funk, I put the junk to an end
Stop pretending, I put an end to the nonsense
Now who the rude bwoy wan' come test, doh?
Now who is the rude boy that wants to test us, huh?
I find his family to I.D. him in the morgue
I find his family to identify him in the morgue
I bet you never thought I bust lead, surprise
I bet you never thought I would shoot and kill you, surprise
I'm a fortified blunt head just like me dread
I am strong-headed just like my dreadlocks
You can't test the champion sound, you gettin' bucked down
You cannot challenge the champion sound, you will be taken down
Recognize the Boot Camp Clik out of Bucktown
Acknowledge the Boot Camp Clik from Bucktown
Gun-thirsty little bastard, always blasted
Eager for violence, always carrying a gun
From the sacks of chocolate off Mother Gaston
From the drug deals in the Mother Gaston area
You say you're number one wicked selector
You claim to be the top DJ
I say you punnany and I'll wet ya
I say you're weak and I will attack you
Keep the bull 'fore I pull this here trigger
Keep talking nonsense before I shoot
Cause you don't wanna test me when I'm tipsy off the liquor
Because you do not want to challenge me when I am drunk
Like the punk they called McGirt, got his feelings hurt
Like the fool named McGirt, who became hurt emotionally
Showed his true colors, had to yank up his skirt
Revealed his true nature, had to expose his weakness
Now he's in misery, tryna cop a plea
Now he is in a state of misery, trying to make excuses
Lead to him head from Gunn Clappa Numba Three, see
Shot to his head from Gunn Clappa Number Three
Lick off a shot, you no dick-rider
Shoot a bullet, you are not a follower
Lick off shot, punnany, not pon fire
Shoot a bullet, weakling, not emitting fire
Now everybody wan be Don Gorgon
Now everyone wants to be a powerful figure
All around New York, niggas be talkin', but we be stalkin'
People all over New York talk, but we observe silently
In the docks when the gun starts barkin'
In dangerous areas when gunshots are fired
But in the day, be wary of where you be walkin'
But during the day, be cautious of where you walk
Don't, don't, don't
Do not
You ever mention 'bout you wan' test the champion sound
If you ever mention wanting to challenge the champion sound
Leave it to di people dem
Leave it to the people
Cah you know that when time di people dem come
Because you know that when the people arrive
Ah we dem ah ball for
We are the ones they cheer for
Leave
Go away
Me nah sex, me rough like the wicked youth in me
I do not mess around, I am tough like a wicked youth
The motherfucker that be buggin' over truth, you see
The person who obsesses over the truth, you see
Original, criminal run the town, crime pays
The original criminals dominate the town, crime is profitable
That's what I practice, so act
That's what I do, so behave accordingly
If you wan' get blasted by my nine shot
If you want to be shot by my nine-millimeter gun
Come around my block pon the night spot in the Pine box
Come around my neighborhood at the nightlife spot and end up in a coffin
Murderer, batty bwoy killa
Murderer, killer of gay men
Colin Powell filla, we 'bout to get illa
Filling the role of Colin Powell, we are about to become more dangerous
Sound bwoy, you got nuff reason to worry
Sound boy, you have many reasons to be worried
Coming wit' my troops, we about to bury
Coming with my crew, we are about to defeat you
Betta pack ya dubs and move in a hurry, ease off, zeen?
You better gather your belongings and leave quickly, calm down, understand?
Lookin' at my pager, it's about that time
Checking my pager, it's the right time
To load up the 9, and do my derelict crime
To load my nine-millimeter gun and commit my criminal acts
Warriors, conquerors, the man before ya
Warriors, victorious individuals, the man in front of you
Mr. Ripper, a.K.a. The enemy killa
Mr. Ripper, also known as The enemy killer
My man wit the weed, is my man in deed
My friend with the marijuana is truly my friend
And all you sucky-ducky niggas catch knots wit' speed
And all you weak individuals get beaten up quickly
Talkin' 'bout you have sound
Talking about how you have a sound system
Ah my sound you wan' test?
You want to challenge my sound system?
You neva know that when it comes to championship
You never knew that when it comes to being the best
Is we that have di management and correspond wid good yute
We are the ones who have the leadership and work with good people
To sing for good crew
To perform for a good group of people
Lawd, some bwoy gwan get dead tonight, duke
Lord, some guys are going to die tonight, my friend
As I retrieve the .25 from my Timboots
As I take out the .25 caliber gun from my Timboots
Target pon sight, trigga pon cock
Target in sight, finger on the trigger
Adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy walk
Get ready to witness a dead person walk
Nuff pussyhole gwan die dis year
Many weak individuals will die this year
Here comes the boot camp, slide it to the rear
Here comes the group of tough individuals, move out of the way
Strain coming like a hurricane lickin' shots
Danger is coming fast and violently
More untouchable than niggas wit' the chicken pox
Impossible to touch, like people with chickenpox
So, emcees get lifted when I'm spliffted
So, rappers get intimidated when I'm high
Nigga guard ya grill 'cause Louisville packs the biscuit
Protect yourself because Louisville carries a gun
In the session Smif-N-Wessun OG's see gun clapper number one
During the rap session, Smif-N-Wessun original gangsters see the top gunman
Wit' my nigga D-O-G
With my friend D-O-G
We bring the realness, feel this
We bring authenticity, feel this
Boom it's black moon reveal this
Boom, Black Moon exposes this
We come to let you know, what the deal is
We come to inform you of the situation
Straight up we serve justice, so if you can't be trusted
We apply justice directly, so if you cannot be relied upon
May you return where the dust is
May you go back to irrelevance and insignificance
There is many sound that's goin' around and goin' on
There are many sound systems that are active and prevalent
And gwan like a clown, but I'm tellin' you, clean up your act
And behave foolishly, but I'm telling you, change your behavior
And come to di livestock cah you a deadstock from mornin' to de
And come to the performance because you are insignificant from morning until now
And now is evening, time fi tings change (you must be a fool)
And now it is evening, time for things to change (you must be foolish)
(Oh, Jesus, you already dead, bwoy)
(Oh, Jesus, you are already dead, boy)
Lyrics © MJJN LLC, Royalty Network, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: Ewart Dewgarde, Walter Dewgarde, W Henry, Jack Mcnair, Tekomin Williams, Darryl Yates
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@edgaruamusse9702
Who still bumping the head on 2023??
@tinojimenez734
its on repeat till this didday wordlife sunn 90s funk child
@BNNBOOMBAP
💣💯
@JenniferKotjan
2024! ❤
@lemonsession
Right here. I DJ with it all the time
@rafyorivr5748
2024
@patrickoakley7890
This is what New York shit is supposed to sound like. Gritty, dusty, dark, with a BANGIN drum pattern.
@spiritualNaz
Facts
@Danny-bg8kz
I remember the time clearly.. 💪💪
@koko40800
Inna old skool Crooklyn stylee