Из альбома: Live in Concert, Volume 1
I was walkin' down the street
Concentrating on truckin' right
I heard a dark voice beside of me And I looked round in a state of fright
I saw four faces, one mad
A brother from the gutter
They looked me up and down a bit
And turned to each other
I say
I don’t like cricket, oh no
I love it I don’t like cricket, no no
I love it Don’t you walk through my words
You got to show some respect
Don’t you walk through my words
'Cause you ain’t heard me out yet
Well he looked down at my silver chain
He said I’ll give you one dollar
I said you’ve got to be joking man
It was a present from me' mother
He said, «I like it I want it
I’ll take it off your hands
And you’ll be sorry you crossed me You’d better understand that you’re alone
A long way from home»
And I say
I don’t like reggae, no no
I love it I don’t like reggae
I love it Don’t you cramp me style
Don’t you queer me pitch
Don’t you walk through my words
'Cause you ain’t heard me out yet
I hurried back to the swimming pool
Sippin' piña colada
I heard a dark voice beside me say
«Would you like something hotter?»
She said, «I've got it, you want it My harvest is the best
And it you try it, you’ll like it And wallow in a dreadlock holiday
And I say
Don’t like Jamaica, oh no
I love her
Don’t like Jamaica, oh no
I love her, oh yea
Don’t you walk through her words
You got to show some respect
Don’t you walk through her words
'Cause you ain’t heard her out yet
I don’t like cricket
I love it (Dreadlock Holiday)
I don’t like reggae
I love it (Dreadlock Holiday)
Don’t like Jamaica
I love her (Dreadlock Holiday)