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 this thing, knew the shock, yeah, had to do and ride the rock

Outta this rock shall come a greener rhythm

Even more dread than what the breeze of glory bred

Vibrating violence is our only 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 sad man said, any policeman come here

Will get some righteous, raasclot licks, yeah mon, whole heapa licks

Hours beat, the scene moving right, when all on a sudden

Bam, bam, bam, a knocking upon the door

"Who is that?", asked 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"