(Verse 1:)
(uh uh) it's a Saturday night,
Full crew stepping at the function,
Keith Lawrence is a weapon of mass destruction,
Brixton DJ and he played the funk son ,
A local hero, yo but now he ain't unsung,
Jimmy brought rum, he looking for clean cups,
no snacks here you won't be dancing on peanuts,
strictly hot food, keep you nice and strong,
so you can go on and on and last long,
everytime I hear this song, this song,
I will be played deep brown, the place teared down
dangerous on the door seen it all before,
coats and bags on the floor by the decks,
me next to DJ, I carry the swing,
fellow his eyes are closed as he exercising, ???
everybody move a moving, in a unified swing,
gentle up and down fingertips rolling salsa

(Verse 2:)
Mark and Davo in the corner, heading on in by the speaker,
dressed cool never known to freak,
outside by the pool on chairs and bars stools,
are the lovers long term manually discovered,
some for romance, sum in each others pants,
sum debutantes with pool side veterans,
what better than you catch a cross delta,
and grab a kiss with the moon, that's the number whata
food still hot cause your pots still steaming,
Casey screaming, he's not doing the cleaning,
while D's leaning back with a large grin,
left up to him party would simply start again,

(Verse 3:)
This is how I make the party sway,
Yo I got more styles than Amsterdam got ashtrays,
I blaze in the shadows with my compardres,
Cause I stay close to home where I'm known to praise,
i was raised down south where running your mouth is something my people know all about,
it's a semi professional pastime, gotta get the last line, you know its your shout