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
‘Cause when the music met I-tops
I felt the sting, knew the shock, yeah,
Had to do and ride the rock
Outta dis rock shall come a greener riddim
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 said 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 ‘pon the door
«Who is dat?», aksed 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.»