Ku pon dis. I-ney fi all mi Rasta I-dren.  I and I di hot steppa, Don raggamuffin, rude bwoy ArrowDread, back ina Babylon.  Dread release di chains of all dem downpressors and bag-o-wires with dem politricks, fi dem drop a fa shape.  Galang pon di mountain top, I and I satta cool meditations and upfullness ina di face of bandulus.  Iditations fi mystic revealations- never isms, never skisms.  Niyabinghi, forward di niyah man onto Mt. Zion.  One love obeah, seen?  Escape the manacles of di bald heads, haffi give thanks n praize while mi chalize blaze..  Cuyah, dis mon Dread, outta  Babylon for so long, now flash it forward, call to all dem beenie binghis, let off what I and I dun miss. Wa'ppun?  No more with di cuss cuss and di su-su?  Mek wi dweet.  Nebe naa. Ovastan?  Reespek fi all mi bredren.Ya nuh see it? Big ups, sight?  Let I and I know. Dread out.