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.