Tropical night on tha Congo's shore Jungles 're sleepin putten forward thorns Wild africa smells of venture tang Noiseless sneak Negoro's gang Take care and out yo ass, man They're dealers of da livin wares Poor blacks are target in da fuckin hunt But natives have da protector — Dick Sand Oh this guy! He's brave 'n yaang He's supaman boy when he's not too full drunk He's 15, but he's keany gun By da way, Mrs. Waldon — she 'nows his tongue They sail atlantic witha captain Gull This MF bastardo Negoro Negoro's alive again It's not S.america mista Sand This terrible country, slaveholdin land AFRICA — yo contrast style Can demolish yaang 15-age mind Yaang cptn. Sand, it's not N.Y. Yo friends, free blax, here's smelly joke It's not motha brooklyn, not fuckin bronx anotha rules, anotha blocks Detachment moves to da centre of land Yankees are bozo, yankees are rampin' With da "Insectkilla" cousin Benedict They're drinkin rum eight days a week Negoro spies on band from tricket He wanna fun too, he's wicked Negoro's bad, he wants Mrs. Waldon In jungle babydolls are so rare Now, how's Dick? He's hero again Witha Greatest Mgamga he calls da rain He treats da bushmen 'n sings them songs 'N tells 'em storys 'bout wars in bronx Warriors, c'mout to plaaaaaay Negoro attacks Dicks little band They fight like lions, havent dread But they are scanty, they loose Negoro take cptn. in fuckin noose Proud Sand is wild, Negoro has him teased He stuck da 'nife into da portuguese beast Negoro's dead, his heart is not knock Check it out, u brotha, really cool shock