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I was walkin' the street
on truckin' right
I heard a dark voice of me
And I round in a state of fright
I saw four one mad
A brother the gutter
They looked me up and a bit
And turned to other

I say
I don't cricket oh no
I it
I like cricket no no
I it
Don't you walk my words
you got to show me respect
you walk thru' my words
'Cause you ain't me out yet.

Well he looked down at my silver
He I'll give you one dollar
I you#ve got to be jokin' man
It was a present me mother
He I like it I want it
I'll take it off hands
And you'll be you crossed me
better understand that you're alone
A way from home.

And I say
I don't like no no
I it
I don't reggae
I it
Don't you cramp my
Don't you queer me
Don't you thru' my words
you ain't heard me out yet.

I hurried back to the swimming
Pena Calarda
I heard a dark voice me say
Would you something harder
She said got it you want it
My is the best
And if you try it you'll it
And in a Dreadlock Holiday.

And I say
Don't Jamaica oh no
I her
like Jamaica oh no
I her oh yea
you walk thru' her words
You got to show respect
you walk thru' her words
'Cause you ain't her out yet.

I don't cricket
I it Dreadlock Holiday
I don't like
I love it Dreadlock
Don't Jamaica
I love her Holiday.