Lyrics Jahmiel – Dead Bwoy Leroy
Text:
Tru Ambassador Music
Only kid inna the war weh the goat dem a curry ‘pon your bloodclaat nine night
Kidnap your mumma when she go fi view your dead body dung a bright light
Vampire badness
Me have too much gun, so fi live inna the cabin a no the right size
A .32 inna the clip and me a gi’ you dem
Your friend try run, but me kill your friend
Threat a something me no send
If a no M.V.P., pussy you no trend
First me fire 22, then me gi’ you 10
Me you a pree, so me kill you then
Pussy, dem nah get day throw, dem a throw bait
Dem a dance hall fishermen
Bombohole!
Buss him head with the Benilli
Breed your gyal, but a you she gi’ the belly
Your last youth favour me
Tell the demon Satan ‘fraid a me
A the whole Jamaica waan gun him dung
When dem see Sean Kingston a rub him down
Pliers pull teeth out a fucking gum
The demon say ‘mhm’, like a dumb him dumb (hehe)
Press the trigger mek the Uzi repeat
Famine, a when your gyal no gi’ your pussy fi eat
A she run him head, she tell the pussy go sleep
A we buss him head, me mek a juvi’ go dweet
You nah fly, so you nah mek no damn money
And nothing nah too gwaan fi scam money (heh)
Somebody tell Leroy Russel, mek sure a no batty him a hustle
But mek me tell you how him tun demon
A true, dem catch him ‘pon a priest strong
Pussy, you no straight a wha’ do uncle she mon
No call no man name, ’cause a me one
Hype him a look off a gully and V-Clan
Mamn circle your region, squeeze one
Muma jay bawl out, «Jeezam Peezam»
A .32 inna the clip and me a gi’ you dem
Your friend try run, but me kill your friend
Threat a something me no send
If a no M.V.P., pussy you no trend
First me fire 22, then me gi’ you 10
Me you a pree, so me kill you then
Pussy, dem nah get day throw, dem a throw bait
Dem a dance hall fishermen
Me no fire two grains a the whole rice bag dem a get
No hashtag bwoy, a toe tag dem a get
Life the Sparta dog dem a fret
Pussy dead when the Patriots dem a step
Yeah me short, but pussy, me no short a gun
Him answer because him thing water dung (heh!)
Nah no lyrics and war no done
«Gaza unno sure a Mr. Palmer son»
Which gun microphone inna hand him a grip
Full a tough talk when him a chat inna hit
Yah pussy so your fucking head the ‘matic a split
If him a call me bait, that mean Tommy a fish
Bou mighty, pussy have a mighty mouth
Tattoo pan your face, man a go knife it out
Portmore the rifle dem rise eh done
Nozzle big like the big pussy gyal weh your wife enuh
Mek me see you then
Your friend try run, but me kill your friend
Threat a something me no send
If a no M.V.P., pussy you no trend
First me fire 22, then me gi’ you 10
Me you a pree, so me kill you then
Pussy, dem nah get day throw, dem a throw bait
Dem a dance hall fishermen
Fucker
A moment of silence