Brixton Snow

1992, Brixton Prison, a golden dreadlock Snowy, plays his position, cooling in his cell and watching some television.

He walks with a limp through the wing, his boat bares a grin, and they say, "Have you got a pebble in your shoe and ting?"

Sporting circle sunglasses just like John Lennon, they cover his mince-pies, he is one fly felon.

He was a ragga MC, and he spat pure Patois. He didn't make generic hip hop, like your average rapper.

Now he is released from the shovel and pick, he's got his eyes on the prize, so he won't miss a trick!

His real name was Richard, but they called him Richie Snow. He was pretty fly for a white guy. They all were diggin' his flow.

Fresh outta jail, for a fight with a shank, the judge spanked him with a stretch and sent him straight to the tank.

Now he's released, he stays away from the beef and keeps his head down, trying to avoid the police.

The only white cat, to kick it with the brothers, they accept him as their own, cos he weren't no undercover.

Baggy jeans with deep pockets and rocking a chain with high-top sneakers aren't a walk of shame.

His one bruddah Zulu tells him to rock a show, to be the mic controller on stage, and let all the fools know.

It was the fridge nightclub, the coolest place to be, Snowy had to rock the mic and let all the Brixtonians see.

He jumps on the stage and performs his dancehall music, spittin' like Eek-a-mouse, there's no chance he'd lose it.

This one hot honey was whining pon the stage. She had a bunda like a fat peach, causing all the manz to gaze.

She had ebony skin and was built like a bazooka. She says, "SNIPER IN DA BUILDING!" Like Snow is a shooter.

Anyway, the next morning, they both awake in his bed, his yard was a mess, just like the state of his head.

"Would you like some coffee?" He asks as he rolls off, out from his side. "Yes, make it black." She tells him with pride.

"What's your name anyway?" Snowy asks as he pops on the kettle. "It's Nina Brown!" She replies with a settle.

She leaps out of bed, with just his sheet covering her up. He walks back towards her, and he hands her the cup.

"You're a real grindsman!" She tells him with a smile. He takes the compliment. It doesn't cramp his style.

Later on that day, Nina is still at his yard, wearing Snow's flannel shirt and playing on his guitar.

Snowy had to go. He had moves to make. Even though it was a night of pleasure, he wouldn't make that mistake.

He was trying to stay clean from the crack rock and keep away from the feins, down in Cold Harbour Lane where they were living the dream.

Cooling with his boys "Tha Wild Catz" on the reggae scene, they were yardmanz, of course, but they were still musicly keen.

He started a few dodgy dealings to make some P with his crew, but wasn't going down that rabbit-hole. He still knew what to do.

A few of dem were getting nicked and caught up in the system, but they were the ones that wouldn't listen and had no ambition.

He was sticking to his music and trying to stay focused, but now Nina was on the scene, popping up like hocus pocus.

It frustrated him a bit, but he still liked her around. She was now a part of the furniture, and she was standing her ground.

She would make herself at home and roll up a zoot, rubbing her plates of meat together, laying back in his coop.

Sparking spliff after spliff, she would smoke out his flat. It was giving him the urge to go and smoke up some crack.

One day, she attacked his neighbour Kelly, for using his phone, hitting her with blow after blow and chased her out of his home.

She recalled him saying before that his neighbour was damn fine, even though she only called in to use the landline.

That evening, he had a slip, and he was on the cherry-ripe. He was wired out of his head, and he boinked Nina's brains out all night.

In the morning, while she snores, he looks into her bag, he can see pepper-spray, along with some hand-cuffs and a police badge.

As he puts two and two together and realises she's a rozzer, he tries to sneak out of his gaff when he hears... "Don't even bother!"

Nina had woken up, pointing a pistol at his dome, but he wasn't going out like that, especially in his home.

He walks over calmly and then leaps in to grab the gun. There's a struggle, and they fight, but she's just having some fun.

She's much stronger than he is and physically trained, like a cat playing with a mouse. He's on the floor and restrained.

Suddenly she's on the walkitalki, while he twisted up the floor, something about an "IC1 male" that's all that he could recall.

"Get the F off me bitch, just let me go!!" He tries to plead with Nina in despair, but she doesn't want to know. "It was nice knowing you, but now it's back to the shovel for Brixton Snow!"