Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Yalla Yalla , by - Joe Strummer. Release date: 25.03.2021
Song language: English
Yalla Yalla |
| Well, so long, liberty |
| Let’s forget you didn’t show, not in my time |
| But in our sons' and daughters' time, when you get the feeling |
| Call and you got a room, meantime |
| We’re cutting our hands at the kebab shop in the streets of fear |
| Forgetting all our best tai-kwon-do moves on a barrel of beer |
| We’re trying to get a signal out of ragga FM, do the DTI, buzz CNN |
| Sucking the wine right out of the vine, spitting it out again |
| Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin' |
| Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin' |
| Drive, drive |
| Distance no object, rastafari |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla yo |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Jambalaya on the bayou |
| Kool Moe Dee was in The Treacherous Three |
| There’s old school, new school, and Brownie McGee |
| Going underwater to explode |
| Now night is falling on the grove |
| You can but dream… |
| And I hear yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla yo |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Jambalaya on the bayou |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla yo |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| There’s jambalaya on the bayou tonight in the grove |
| Well, so long, liberty |
| Just let’s forget you never showed, not in my time |
| But in our sons' and daughters' time, when you get the feeling |
| Call and you got a room, meantime |
| We’re cutting our hands on the kebab shop in the streets of fear |
| Forgetting all our best tai-kwon-do moves on a barrel of beer |
| Trying to get a signal through from ragga FM, do the DTI, buzz CNN |
| Sucking the swine right out of the vine, I’m spitting it back again |
| Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin' |
| Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin' |
| Drive, drive |
| Distance no object, rastafari |
| Somebody got a vision of a homeland |
| From a township, from a township window |
| Through a township window, some crazy widow |
| Dares to have a vision, starts seething like |
| Seeming like a homeland on the plain |
| Not in focus yet |
| Seeming like a homeland on the plain |
| Not in focus yet |
| I’m groovin' with a free style nation |
| And maximum density |
| And I say yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla yo |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Jambalaya on the bayou |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla yo |
| Yalla, yalla, yalla, yalla |
| Only to shine, shine in gold, shine |