You make 'm name stop 'm inside head belong you.

All the time you speak 'm this fella dog, you speak 'm Killeny Boy.

Savvee?
Suppose 'm you no savvee, I knock 'm block off belong you.

Killeny Boy, savvee! Killeny Boy.

Killeny Boy." As Kwaque removed his shoes and helped him undress, Daughtry regarded Michael with sleepy eyes.
"I've got you, laddy," he announced, as he stood up and swayed toward bed.