Stevens Greed

Lyrics

[Intro - bassline wobble, skanking guitar chops, playful patois ad-libs, crisp drum and bass rimshots]
Mawnin’ inna di kitchen, sun a peek through di blind,
Pots a clatter, spoon a stir, now mi lose mi mind,
Son, what ya doin’? Mi smell di whole yard fry,
Too much tings pon di stove, an yuh can’t tell me why!

[Verse 1 - ragga vocal swing, tight funk bass, sharp drums, mother’s voice half-sung half-shouted]
Six bombaclart eggs? Wah yuh think yuh a do,
Bacon pile up high like yuh feed whole crew,
Toast pon toast pon toast, butter runnin’ down,
Sausage, hash brown, more and more all round.
Mi say, “Pickney, yuh blind? Yuh waan mash up di place?
Yuh cook like yuh feed five people, not one face!”
Yuh plate too full, yuh belly still a grow,
But yuh greedy little ways, everybody inna di yard know.

[Pre-Chorus - tension rising, snappy drums, bass pushing forward, pointed vocal delivery]
Mi tell yuh already, “Easy wid di food!”
Yuh act like every mornin’ got to be a feast mood,
Fridge nearly empty and yuh still nah stop,
Son, if yuh keep dis up, mi nah save one chop!

[Chorus - big ragga-funk hook, call-and-response, punchy horn stabs, rolling drum and bass energy]
Too much, too much, yuh cook too much!
One likkle belly and yuh make one big clutch!
Six eggs, bacon, toast, and a mountain pon di plate,
Greedy bwoy, greedy bwoy, yuh always waan more straight!
Too much, too much, yuh cook too much!
Mi nah play nice, mi chat it rough!
Cook fi di house, not fi yuh alone,
Tek one meal, chile, and lef di rest pon di stone!

[Verse 2 - funkier groove, playful bass fills, mother’s patois sharper, drums bouncing]
“Wah dat smell?” mi seh, “Jesus, mercy mi sight!”
Yuh fryin’ up plantain like yuh prepping all night,
Butter, jam, cheese, and a whole heap a tea,
Mi haffi ask, “Son, who yuh trying fi be?”
Yuh seh, “Mummy, mi hungry,” but mi know di trick,
Yuh eyes big like yuh planning fi lick every lick.
Yuh coulda share some, show some manners, be cool,
But yuh inna di kitchen actin’ like a food fool.

[Bridge - stripped-back bass, echoing vocals, half-time drums, stern but loving tone]
Mi love yuh, yuh know, but yuh haffi learn,
Food nuh free fi waste while di fire still burn,
One egg, two egg, maybe three if yuh must,
But six bombaclart eggs? Dat is too much lust.
Hear mi now, hear mi clear, tek advice from mi word,
Greed turn sweet breakfast into whole heap a absurd.

[Final Chorus - full band, energetic horn lines, crowd-ready chant, fast drum and bass lift]
Too much, too much, yuh cook too much!
One likkle belly and yuh make one big clutch!
Six eggs, bacon, toast, and a mountain pon di plate,
Greedy bwoy, greedy bwoy, yuh always waan more straight!
Too much, too much, yuh cook too much!
Mi nah play nice, mi chat it rough!
Cook fi di house, not fi yuh alone,
Tek one meal, chile, and lef di rest pon di stone!

[Outro - fading bass, playful patois ad-libs, reverb on mother’s voice]
So clean up di kitchen, lef di pot dem neat,
Next time cook sensible, no mountain pon di heat,
Yeh yeh, mi son, mi love yuh still,
But don’t mek breakfast break di whole household will!