to the ceiling
Rifle dem a lock a town, body drop a ground
Wonder why the father not around
It's a shatter sound, nigga truth
we get a proper crown, body scatter round
You a go look inna yourself and try
feel it's a Jah Jah sound
Rastaman is not a clown, sit down pon a throne
Responsibility dem a
feed and a pound, if thanks
you give me everything a Jah alone
That's why a everywhere me wave
the banner brown
He that dwelleth in the place of the
Most High