🇯🇲 Full Mad💥 | Dancehall (translation): They say, “How come your dancehall lyrics are so sick?” You ready? Ah Drop it Riddim They say, “How come your dancehall lyrics are so sick?” they're like when Ronaldinho popped a nutmeg when I step on the mic and shell it, they're glad, now the entire place going completely mad! When I spit like the Don, they demand a pull up, they demand the dj rerun it, the whole place gets packed out they want lyrics, I cook up hot lyrics, hands in the air, watch them push up, push up! that's why I sing, they want a clash live at Sting, MCs are shook check out the sick vibe we bring watch your Don on the mic, how I shell down the thing Muhammad Ali, Tyson, clash man in the ring sing “knockout, knockout!” if you want to step up and clash, get knocked out, knocked out dance, rock out, rock out, don't bother dropping out, dropping out they fire blanks in the air with their glocks out, glocks out, sing queue on the road, full block out, block out 'Cause each time I step, yeah, it's sell-out, sell-out, plenty fine girls dem yell out, yell out! they say, “How come your dancehall lyrics are so sick?” they're like when Ronaldinho popped a nutmeg when I step on the mic and shell it, they're glad now the entire place is going completely mad! Turn down the level! Level the thing! Listen, I want to big up all the people here, you hear what I'm saying? Yeah, man! You want more? Eh? Alright! Listen to my tune, drop the thing! Yo! Yo! I wear Clarks boots sing blue jeans and my mesh they ask how come my lyrics run so clean and fresh pa-pa-pa-pop like a shotta, in my lungs and my breath, sing pull up, they want, then pull up they get... run off at the mouth in the clash, they'll regret it, they rerun it, they want the DJ to reset the riddim 'cause they see how my lyrics fly like a jet now my numbers and my views have gone viral on the internet yeah, back in the day we had to carry cassettes sell them on the road, never got a belly full, I won't forget hustled from the gully, had to hustle out of debt now I'm front-page Gleaner, yeah, front-page Gazette! Sing, “How come your dancehall lyrics are so sick?” they're like Ronaldinho when he popped a nutmeg! when I step on the mic and shell it, they're glad, now the entire place is going completely mad! Lord have mercy!
