| Coming from the country / with my bag of collie
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| I buck up on a D.C. / Him waan fi hold me
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| «Don't you run now, youth man, you won’t get away»
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| «If you slip you will die, and if you run you can’t hide»
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| «For I’ve got my dic, stuck right in my hip now»
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| (Wo-o-ow DC)
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| Don’t you take my Ishen
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| (Wo-o-ow DC)
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| Don’t you touch my collie
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| (Wo-o-ow DC)
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| The children dying fi hunger
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| And I man a suffer
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| So you’ve got to see
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| It’s this collie that feeds me
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| Fifty cents a stick
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| And a dollar a quater
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| That is what keeps me alive
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| Me and my two kids and wife
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| So give me a chance, sir
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| And make me gwan likkle faster
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| Just let me pass through
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| And Jah will bless you
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| (Wo-o-ow DC)
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| Don’t you take my I-science
|
| (Wo-o-ow DC)
|
| Don’t you touch my Collie
|
| (Wo-o-ow DC)
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| I got the great Sinsemilla
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| And the good Lamb’s Bread yeah
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| A likkle tripe for stone
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| And a likkle goat head
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| Dread dem waiting in the city
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| Fi go lick it with the gritty
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| So please Mr. DC, won’t you have some pity?
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| (Wo-o-ow DC)
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| Don’t you take my I-science
|
| (Wo-o-ow DC)
|
| Don’t you touch my Collie
|
| (Wo-o-ow DC) |