Stolen from an African land
Chased out with a knife
With a face like Bob Marley
And a mouth like a motorbike
Oh well, the bars are always open
And the time is always right
And if God's good word goes unspoken
The music goes all night
And it goes
If I were Bob Marley, I'd say, "Could you be loved?"
And if I was Half Pint, or with my Lord up above
If I was Mike Tyson, I would look for a fight
And if I was a Boomtown Rat, I would be staying up all night
If I was the king Ad-Rock, I would get stupid dumb
If rhymes were Valiums, I'd be comfortably numb
But if I had a shotgun
You know what I'd do
I'd point that shit straight at the sky
And shoot heaven on down for you
Because the bars are always open
And the time is always right
And if God's good word goes unspoken
The music goes all night, and it goes
And it goes
I want a lover, but I can't find the time
I want a reason, but I can't find the rhyme
And I want to start some static, but I can't afford
To get slammed to the ground like I fell off my skateboard, hey
Nowadays, as clear as you please
Get strapped with protection, or strap with disease
Laughter, it's free
Any time, just call me
4-3-9, 0-1-1-6
When you're down with Sublime, you get
Funky fresh lyrics
You get 'nough rhythms
Stolen from an Africa land
I was chased out of the bar
Mhmmh, I saw my best friend tonight, so
Don't push me too far
I'm gonna run, come down with the new lyrics
Get hip, get hip, don't slip, you knuckle heads
Racism is schism, on a serious tip
You don't believe me, then I g'won bust your lip
Higher the mountain, it hard to climb
Rougher the rhythm, then it must be Sublime
Listen Yellow Lover, yeah dem right on time
We got Cricket with the quickness and the bassline
Go and raid the sound, an' tell the people the news, oh, hey
Tell them reggae music is on the loose
Here I am, like a raging storm (I am from the place where the sun)
With a brand-new style and a unique fashion (keeps shinin', shinin')
And good, good vibes that keep on playin', playin'
Dem a fire one shot for peace equality
Come, come, dem a come with a rougher stylee
Come, come, dey no care about your reggae stylee
Come, come, if ya come with your reggae stylee
Dem a fire one shot, pump-pump, lick-a-shot
Dem a fire two shots, pump-pump, lick-a-shot
Dem a fire three shots, pump-pump, lick-a-shot
Dem a hear about me rock with me armor
Do a launch, then attack me with they armor
When they start counter-react me with they armor
Fear who are launch, dem attack me wit they armor
Me no start counter-reactin' dem bigger
Hear me copy, tell you about this reggae stylee
Wait, hold up
People wanna come up and they wan' tell me
Smoking crack cocaine better than sinse
You're poppin' that shit, yeah we're sick of it
Tweakin' every weekend, and we just can't take it
Oh, we don't want plastic, bo!