| Time so rough,
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| And time so tough.
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| Time so rough.
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| Coming from the country with my bag of collie,
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| I walk up on a DC, him want fe hold me.
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| Don’t you run now youthman, you won’t get away.
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| If you slip you will die,
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| And if you run you can’t hide.
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| For I’ve got my clip, stuck right in my hip, now.
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you take my ishen!
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you touch my collie!
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| The children crying for hunger and I-man a suffer,
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| So you’ve got to see, it’s just collie that feeds me.
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| Fifty cents a stick, and a dollar a quarter,
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| That’s what keeps me alive, me and my two kids and wife.
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| So give me a chance sir, a make me gwaan little faster,
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| Just let me pass through, and Jah will bless you.
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you take my ishen!
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you touch my collie!
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| No, for the time is so rough, I gotta hustle, yea.
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| I got the great sensimilla, and the good lambsbread, ya.
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| A little? |
| and a little?
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| You dread them waiting in the city,
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| We go lick it to the gritty.
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| So please Mister DC, won’t you have some pity?
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you take my ishen!
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you touch my collie!
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you touch my ishen!
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| Whoa-oa-oa DC.
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| Don’t you touch my collie!
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| No, no, no, no, Mister DC. |