Alkaline - Microwave

Hizzle, oosh (hmm-mmm)
(If dem no behave a grave enuh) Oosh, oosh
(Behave your likkle self, microwave)
Marverly (you hear that), dead dem dead
Jordan
Yo Frass
Alright then

Streets done know man legit inna war
Never fidget inna war not once (not once)
Dem a boots up a likkle midget inna war
Him a bitch inna the war, tracks man (stop run)
Everybody know a bare box and kick you get
You should a never sing that song
Who me a talk? Suck pussy flopcaan
Whole world know seh you no badman (that a true)
Anywhere me see you, pussy me a buss your face
Show you seh you cyaan style one don
Man will shoot up the car weh your man buy gi' you
Mek you haffi left that abandon
You get thirty million dollar out a ride
And a range as a prize and a pack a tampon
Have all tattoo 'pon hand, wha' gwaan?

Microwave you a bait, man a mek you know straight
You suck out the pussy, she put her batty inna your face
.357 buss, it splash him all over the place
Head over deh so, foot chop off a ground a wiggle and a shake
Say dem have M1, me deh yah so a wait
D'even haffi go hard, me kill you with a .38
Nah use the rifle, me nah have shot fi waste
Mothers prayers cyaan save you, no matter how she pray
Seh dem a corell, me spot him from a mile a step
Bwoy dead from me let go the fighter jet
Notwise a try run, him life a tek
Squid a vomit out her tripe, she sight her death
Stop follow up me style, you cyaan be me
Bad fi your sister, likkle bwoy you no bad fi me
Me lock the city by meself, a man cut your key
Bare killaz man par with, you par with police

Nowhere fi turn go, nowhere fi run go
Throw tire 'pon you, gas light you and burn you
Try sneak diss, me brawling gun down you
Buss the .40 till it breeze, the place turn upside down
War cyaan over, until dem over
Cyaan manage, likkle batty bwoy, go sober
No mek dem fool you, Vendetta will skool you
'Member what reach you one day at your studio

Lee Milla, new year the pussy dem cyaan stand me
Tek it to dem different, so dem understand me
Name 'pon grave stone, face 'pon gansey
Fans dem know you no have no militancy
Me conquer your daughter, send her go buy a cranberry
And a bottle a rum fi drink when the man bury
Dead already, come dead back inna January
Target practice 'pon your family

Nowhere fi turn go, nowhere fi run go
Throw tire 'pon you, gas light you and burn you
Try sneak diss, me brawling gun down you
Buss the .40 till it breeze, the place turn upside down
War cyaan over, until dem over
Cyaan manage, likkle batty bwoy, go sober
No mek dem fool you, Vendetta will school you
'Member what reach you one day at your studio

Dead dem dead
'Member me tell you
Kick off the war, dem think a me name Riquelme
'Member me tell you
New year the pussy dem cyaan stand me
Tek it to dem different, so dem understand me
Name 'pon grave stone, face 'pon gansey
Tek it to dem different, so dem understand me
Dead dem dead
Know yah coward cah Notwise did tell me
Don't fly dah top deh if you doh have a helmet
Dead dem dead

Note:

This song is a diss for Popcaan.

Alkaline lyrics are copyright by their rightful owner(s) and Jah Lyrics in no way takes copyright or claims the lyrics belong to us.
Jah Lyrics exists solely for the purpose of archiving all reggae lyrics and makes no profit from this website.