Yalla Yalla

Well, so long liberty Let's forget you didn't show Not in my time But in our sons' and daughters' time When you get the feeling Call and you got a room Meantime, we're cutting our hands at the ke-bab shop In the streets of fear Forgetting all our best tae-kwon-do moves On a barrel of beer We trying to get a signal on a Ragga F.M. Do the D.T.I., bust CNN Sucking the wine right outta the vine Spitting it out again Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovinGroovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovinDrive, drive, drive Distance no object, rasta for I Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah Yalla, yalla, ya-li-oo, whoa Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah Jumbalaya on the Bayou