| You got to clean up your hammer, and sharpen your sickle
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| For black man in this time of revelation, each and every one of us got to face
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| the fickle, yah
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| Dread
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| When I beg you to say, coming from high places
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| Where there is no screw faces
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| As I man would say
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| This is the the order of the day, what I play
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| When I beg you don’t, don’t you cut down them dreadlocks down in prison
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| Yeah, without a reason
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| I say don’t don’t you cut down them dreadlocks down in prison without a reason
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| And selfish botheration has got to stop
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| Yeah, coming from the Lord though it came from the top, I tell you say, yeah
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| So lawyers and thieves should never be cops, yeah
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| When I say, beat them Jah, go let them have a relapse, I tell you say
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| We round dey
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| When I say poverty shouldn’t be on the land
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| And each and every man got to understand
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| And if every man was equal, you see
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| You wouldn’t have this type of poverty, yeah
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| So don’t you, don’t you trim them natty dread down in prison, yeah
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| Every man should be punished for the wrong they do
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| You should make them the man feel so blue, I say, yeah
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| (scatting)
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| When I say don’t, don’t you do that my brother, yeah, yeah
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| So don’t you, don’t you get messy and bessy yeah, a so me say, bessy
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| I tell you, come down here, yeah
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| Alright
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| The simplest thing is just blam, blam, blam
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| What is this in our little island, yeah
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| Don’t you, don’t you do that to them, Rastaman in prison, yeah
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| And the brother man kinda grow his hair for a reason, yeah yeah
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| Alright, yah
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| Now hear why the wrongie dunce kinda done the wrong thing still
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| And that thing, trimming a man without his will, is very ill, yah
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| Cause I got a painful fever and chill, as I would say
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| Don’t you, don’t you do that to them natty dread in prison, yeah
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| Fort Augustus, St. Catherine district prison
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| Not even anywhere around, yah
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| Not even in GP
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| A wrong thing to do, yeah |