| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
|
| When the two sevens clash
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| My good old prophet Marcus Garvey prophesize, say
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| «St. |
| Jago de la Vega and Kingston is gonna read»
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| And I can see with mine own eyes
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| It’s only a housing scheme that divide
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie, it dread
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| When the two sevens clash
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash
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| Look up a cotton tree out by Ferry police station
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| How beautiful it used to be
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| And it has been destroyed by lightning
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| Earthquake and thunder, I say, what?
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash — it dread
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
|
| When the two sevens clash
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| I take a ride sometimes
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| On Penn Overland and Bronx
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| And sometimes I ride on bus X-82, say what?
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
|
| When the two sevens clash
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
|
| When the two sevens clash
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| Marcus Garvey was inside of Spanish Town district Prison
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| And when they were about to take him out
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| He prophesied and said
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| «As I have passed through this gate»
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| «No other prisoner shall enter and get through»
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| And so it is until now
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| The gate has been locked, so what?
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash, it dread
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash, it bitter, bitter, bitter
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash, a man a go feel it
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| Wat a liiv an bambaie
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| When the two sevens clash, you better do right |