| Oh, a dat a oonu a gwan wid
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| Oonu a bawl, caan oonu claim mi come pon T. V wid rupaul
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| No man caan jump bad man wall
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| No naah stall alright first
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| Dong, dong, dong, dong, dogger, diggy, diggy
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| Dong, dong, dong, dong, dogger, diggy, diggy
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| Dong, dong, dong, dong, dogger, diggy, diggy
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| Dong, words wid meaning, hey
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| Man, a bad man and man, nuh mingle wid nuh rodman
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| And if yuh dis di program, yuh is a dead man
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| Either by a shot or yuh hang
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| Jah, Jah ranks pass mi m-i
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| Man, a bad man and man, nuh mingle wid nuh rodman
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| And if yuh dis di program, yuh is a dead man
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| Either by a shot or yuh hang
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| Jah, Jah ranks pass mi m-i
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| (Niggers bleed jus' like us)
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| Picture me being fraid of a
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| Bwoy weh bus di same gun as me
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| (Niggers bleed jus' like us)
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| Picture me being 'fraid to defend my life a g. |
| p
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| (Niggers bleed jus' like us)
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| Picture me run away from a fight a some bwoy mussy bright
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| (Niggers bleed jus' like us)
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| Picture me being fraid fi lock off a bwoy life like a light
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| Willie haffi squeeze the desert es
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| Better yuh ease nigger leave
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| Well, gun shot a surround yuh like breeze
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| Well, copper shot a tek a bwoy like bees
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| Caan believe, yuh hear mi steve
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| Bad man just get grieve and sing seh
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| Man, a bad man and man, nuh mingle wid nuh rodman
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| And if yuh dis di program, yuh is a dead man
|
| Either by a shot or yuh hang
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| Jah, Jah ranks pass mi m-i
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| Well, fi live dung ainna di jungle, yuh haffi have whole heap a skill
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| Yuh haffi tek a lot a chill pill to kill
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| Well, big up all di man dem from warricka hill, hill, hill
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| What is my favourite attack when mi dress up in a mi frock
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| Wid mi wig pon mi head, sixteen over back
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| Bragga, dagga, dagga, da twenty five body drop
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| But Mr. Ria, Mr. Squire, bredda nia, bad man a flex like vampire
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| Mi wi shot dung a bwoy and nyam him liver
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| But first the D. J haffi utter
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| Weh yuh think all my guns are for
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| Forty-five in control jus to explode on a bwoy soul
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| Time changing things re-arranging more guns bussing
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| More man dying from back in the days of pure mass murdering
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| Well, everyday yuh hear another likkle youth gone
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| And another m-16 man born
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| Man plant peas and waan reap corn
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| What a gwaan, what a gwaan |