| Uhh, C-L Smooth
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| The Mecca Don,
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| uhh
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| Fresh off the plane,
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| spliff rolled, bags
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| trunked couple broads in back,
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| what’s that? |
| Slam dunk
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| Five deep in the port,
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| Smooth in the middle car
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| and we take no cheques,
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| overstand me so far?
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| Speedin all through Ochi,
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| guap kept closely
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| A little town called Priory,
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| mark it in your diary
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| I’m hard with Ram Dog,
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| the late great Willie
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| Wanna know what the chin is brewin, lightin my Cuba Once
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| my slippers is touchin sand,
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| soakin up a tan
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| The only position I’m holdin,
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| is chain of command
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| and that’s word to Juggy Zoot,
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| this is not a fluke
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| On the strength keep dancin BoBo
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| this is my salute Party
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| with Dons like Theroy Fowls,
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| keep your head up king
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| And that’s from me to you
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| the real thing
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| Paper trail on a global scale,
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| mind soul and body
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| like Claudy Massive and Bob Marley
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| Just like they do,
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| that cling to dough
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| I’ll cling to you
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| my love
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| (that's the island)
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| I can’t erase,
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| the memories
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| of things we used to do
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| (do it big)
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| You remind me of,
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| the golden sun
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| that shines after the storm
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| (for my ladies)
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| Oh how we used,
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| to plan the life
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| and dream land for a stroll
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| Said it was written
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| he who judge cast the first stone
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| I’m back home,
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| the Milk River heals my bone
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| Ride to Tiamet in my Circe,
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| dumpling and skinfish early
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| Sour sap juice mixed with nutriment
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| and Guinness
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| Been about my business,
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| me and Dog
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| leave the country Headed for town,
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| where at night you don’t stop at a red light You get rushed, get your throat cut
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| think not?
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| When most times you can’t find me in
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| a tourist spot
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| I’m in Waterhouse,
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| eating porterhouse
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| Where them mothers all biddin
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| for they daughter’s hand
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| I’m crackin lobsters worth 20 grand,
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| why they can’t take my crown
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| I’m into classic Sunday nights,
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| Ray Town
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| We’re the one to chase down,
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| next day,
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| all new faces
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| How I sponsor soccer matches
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| and car races
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| Just the pioneer of the music,
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| show you how it moves me
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| The second coming of Jack Ruby
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| Just like they do,
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| that cling to dough
|
| I’ll cling to you
|
| my love
|
| (that's the island)
|
| I can’t erase,
|
| the memories
|
| of things we used to do
|
| (do it big)
|
| You remind me of,
|
| the golden sun
|
| that shines after the storm
|
| (for my ladies)
|
| Oh how we used,
|
| to plan the life
|
| and dream land for a stroll
|
| I wear it like mosquito repellant,
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| tokin that A-grade bud
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| Where all they love to taste is
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| foreign blood
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| Under palm trees with no concern
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| how my third world turn
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| In all my walkways, torches burn
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| In the hills of Hollywood,
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| overlooking Kingston
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| To sacrifice for the people
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| from this view sink in
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| To climb that mountain,
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| stay countin with a stack
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| Move on a gift wrap,
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| sold it to 'em rob it back
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| Laid up at a Ritz-Carlton
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| See them big Dons
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| come check me
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| and oldfoots connect me
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| Like the Knights of the Round Table,
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| Black Heart’s the label
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| I’m just the hand that rocks the cradle Straight up plate, beachfront,
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| cameras on the gate
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| Just to deal it,
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| no way,
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| smuggle it?
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| Can’t wait
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| I told you once,
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| I told you twice,
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| the ultimate price
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| is what dips my shotties
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| to paradise
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| I pray the stars,
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| may safely keep
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| and watch you while you sleep
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| (real talk)
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| And day by day,
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| the sun will shine
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| as you trot along the way (rewind)
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| I pray the stars,
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| may safely keep
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| and watch you while you sleep
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| (real talk)
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| And day by day,
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| the sun will shine
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| as you trot along the way |