"Lyrical .44" as written by Damian Robert Nesta Marley, Clifford Smith, Stephen Marley, Reggie Noble, Michael A. Chesser and Adam M. Gibbs....
Selecta come!!!!!
Play this song on your fuckin' radio, play this song on your fuckin' radio

Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'
If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose
I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle
Checkin' 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin' it go
I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon' do ya wrong
Time to party, Meth, Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong
So selecta, come with it, awww shit it
Now why'all done did it, supper ready why'all come get it
Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me
Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie
Allah willin', another sound boy killin'
I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings
The truth be the ghetto youth
And Def Jam why'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam
That's what why'all better do
Examine our skin we plannin' to win
Worldwide tell the people we be jammin' again

Make way for Reggie Hammond
I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome
I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin'
I'm pissin' on your picnics where ya campin'
Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy
When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code
Got bitches fucked up off the hypno
I tip toe, then wait till they bend over
(There I go) Aiyyo money
I got a mo ped in Jamaica sittin on twenties
(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air
(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air
No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin'
Aiyyo dread right or wrong
I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers
Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up

[Chorus:]
I don't care about your blinb bling bling
Over here we let them things ring
BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me
BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up
I don't care about your blinb bling bling
Over here we let them things ring
BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time
BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up

I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya
And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature
Blunt dem so big a must fi bun it Bob and Peter
Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher
Put you in a fever
Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve
Gimme di rizla gimme di cup and a couple senorita
Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya
DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha
Jumpin off on di truck, you best believe yah
Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha
Well ever since a likkle ghetto yute dem get mi crippled
So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen
Everytime when we hear some politician trippin
When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in
So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin' lippin'
Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin'
Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin'
Dem wonderin' how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym
Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin'
It is slappin' jappin' dappin' it is non stoppin'
Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen
If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon
Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen
Natty dreadlocks inna di Benz and have recline switchin'
If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin'
Rastafari dun tell yuh don't listen

Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio


Lyrics submitted by ButNeverOutgunned

"Lyrical .44" as written by Adam Gibbs Mike Chesser

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, DELLA MUSIC PUBLISHING, LLC

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Lyrical .44 song meanings
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