dem bow riddim

dancing like a cobra, up against the door,

she's got the riddim and the clothes,

her back is what she's showin'

all the rhythm's in her ass,

she wiggles with no face,

writhing for the boys to watch

on smartphone videos.

hooked on the snare, the blare,

huffing pipe glue in a paper sack,

it's a forbidden scene, but

we're all in it together,

know what i mean?

in these cities with no horizons,

we citizens without worth,

have got our sounds and fury,

because you know,

they're often just the same.

so the place we say it

is at the party or on the street,

our attitude is youtubed

and inked into our skin

when style is all you got, some sparkle

and some skinny pants, fire alarm hair

spiked up for the doggy dance,

we got to take the party to the metro,

the underground.

at the station,

the destination will be found,

the combo's all together, before we're

hounded by the policia and fearful gangs

who mock our phony gold and hats.

they jam us in a subway car

cleared out for this occasion.

we have no money

but that don't really matter

the only dancehall for me

is a deserted factory,

'cuz when you move like that,

i want a little more.

so come a little closer, bend over,

and wiggle like a snake.

when you dance it and give it

from one side to the other

you doin' that dem bow riddim

dem bow dem bow dem bow