You're not sick as you, we drop off all your feet
You drop off your work, arrest a man don't know you need
You, lock the youths up on the street
Stop say them gleaners and stars, yeah, yeah
Stop white glass from them jars, yeah, yeah
The media's a smash you from far everyday
Repatriation, ghetto youths, dem a sore, I still say
That's all that was ever been told
Isn't it? The ghetto youths been uttering bold
You see, and all what the ghetto youths told
He's a black man, no less