| Frass, none a wi no beggie, beggie
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| So dem cyaa promise man nothing
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| After wi no press button
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| Give thanks fi wa mi have cause mi no licky, licky
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| Mi no grudgeful dog, mi no glutton
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| Yo know how far mi a come from and still a hold it
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| From poverty until mi have supn
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| Now mi hear some likkle bwoy come a talk bout di don come
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| Tell di don call nothing
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| Tell dem mi a mi own a don
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| Mi no answer to no man
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| Mi own a don, naw beg sponsor fi mi hand
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| Mi own a don, meck dem come wid dem gang
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| Mi still no computer, no tek program
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| Mi own a don, mi meck mi own move
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| Mi own a don, set mi own rule
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| Mi own a don, step mi own shoes
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| Bwoy violate mi get mi own tools
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| Hey fross, no talk wi no tek from wi a juvenile
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| Go Clark’s, never crep when wi a do di tile
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| Bun up, bun up, di fire pon di cooking oil
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| Wi no laugh no skin teeth, wi no rookie smile
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| Fi mi hand alone fi touch di pocket weh mi put di toil
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| Mi heart bitter like serusi weh yo put fi boil
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| All dem a study, and a watch wi, and a look fi find
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| Tell dem a wi a write di book fi style
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| Real gangsters no penny wise and pound foolish
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| No bwoy cyaa rule this
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| From mi likkle bit a grow tell yuh weh di truth is
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| Di street mark wi never foolish
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| Cyaa call mi inna no meeting bout dem a go beat fi mi body
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| Dem cyaa bruise this
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| When wi seh badness a no play, no movie, no show bwoy
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| A no Tom Cruse this |