| Intro:
|
| Black people don’t get weary,
|
| Dem tek off the shackles an face we,
|
| But still we under mental slavery,
|
| Unno sing with the Startrail posse (My Lord)
|
| Chorus:
|
| Fire pon Rome,
|
| Fi Pope Paul an him scissors an comb,
|
| Black people waan go home
|
| A Mount Zion a di righteous throne
|
| Repeat
|
| Verse 1:
|
| Well, this is my question
|
| To Issa and the one Matalon
|
| How unno get fi own so much black people land
|
| After dem slave, achieve nutten inna hand
|
| Check out greater Portmore, Braeton
|
| One room unno build a sell fi one million
|
| Dem dey studio house nuh worth a hundred gran
|
| Thrue mi a lick out dem waa mi keep quiat
|
| But mi a bun fire fi di one Butch Stewart
|
| Who buy out di plane an all di pilot
|
| Thrue mi nuh inna Jamaica, love fi tan
|
| Mi haffi bun fire fi the one Naree Azan
|
| Everybody know how downtown a fi di poor man
|
| How dem claims it an sey a to dem it belong
|
| No more hustling, dat mean no food inna hand
|
| One help wi have is the Almighty One
|
| Jamaicans chant mi song
|
| Chorus
|
| Verse 2:
|
| My Lord, don’t talk jus listen,
|
| Mi haffi bun fire fi P.J. Patterson
|
| Him mek certain move an wi nuh too certain
|
| How much black youth behind iron curtain
|
| Thrue mi naw go trod inna Babylon order
|
| Mi haffi bun fire fi one name Seaga
|
| Everyday cost a living get harder
|
| Have more seller more than buyer
|
| Oh my Lord, what a pressure
|
| Chorus
|
| Verse 3:
|
| So many things politician have stolen
|
| Still them return with the one Bruce Golding
|
| Saying a brand new party dem forming
|
| But a part dem a part we with dem politics meeting
|
| Out A politics poor people get them beaten
|
| Look who dem have a tun metropolitan officer
|
| Fi tek yuh hustling out a yuh hand
|
| When yuh look pon dem face a yuh own black man
|
| Well out of the slum di poor people send mi Fi look what a gwaan and don’t disagree
|
| What is the benefit of GCT?
|
| It benefit you but it never fit me.
|
| Chorus |