|
Did I mention to you about my punk rock radio?
Words don't apply on my push it up stereo
Transistor party, but the fader's right
They're gonna speak, come and blast it on a reggae, all the night
Whoo!
Sham 69, roots reggae on my temple
With a 45 record too, on the turntable
With the turntable kicking, man, it took away, yeah
When the sun come a rising and let the song begins
Singing!
We're on a mission, got no remorse
One hundred miles an hour, collision course
With the glow of the light and my radio down
Four better pieces from the record found
I dropped the needle watching Creedle and Shout
Now, I'm playing a black man at the record shop
Deep in the night in the caos scums
My rhythm gets striven by the beat of drums
45, 33 RPM,
Hey, Mr DJ, let us in!
Check it!
We're on a mission, got no remorse
One hundred miles an hour, collision course
|
|
