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Tournament

Buju Banton
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Lyrics

Come prepared It's a love she dealing with What kind of love? Got to be prepared Hear Buju Banton Have no fear man Hear me now! Fit for the tournament Fit for the clash A man no want nothing after this yah Watch her, she haffi wonder if I still a him me back Solid well together, super compact And if a war, Buju ready fi the yack And if a woman, Buju ready fi the clash Catch her in her side and she did not abide inna the center I must collide Me tell them, the woman them say me clever Ready fi hackle every never Once her inna the warm and tender Stomach a mix up like a blender Too much gyal a rush me all And touch me stampede Cyaa mek dem a juice, and weh siddim haffi breed A couple full rounds, well that's what she receive Now me can't get no space, Buju can't get no sleep Dive inna me bed, woman a touch me how me sweat Whisper inna me ears and say she ready fi do it Realer than a cement bout and is weak One alone, the job is not complete Don't pay any ass to play a hating when we roll in deep Some can't feel dem knees bend, cactus fi sit Me say, note your words sound rock bottom cheap Have the woman bawling out, "Gargamel, please!" A so we clever A so we clever Fit for the tournament See me yah Fit for the tournament Fit for the clash A man no want nothing after this yah Woman them haffi wonder if I still a him me back Solid well together Gargamel! Fit for the tournament Fit for the clash A man no want nothing after this yah Fit for the tournament Fit for the clash A man no want Wha' me do?! Treat the woman dem right A couple spite Car a go party Mall go shop Gucci and diamonds, no matter the cash I smoke indo while she sip apple splash Macka wear vest, plus me Clarks boots fi match While me only just a sport Prada bottom and top It's my gyal, bwoy you better get chop Listen Buju the Banton Hey, hey, hey 'Cause me fit for the tournament Fit for the clash A man no want nothing after this yah Fit for the tournament Fit for the clash A man no want, it's love Well, a so the woman them say me clever Ready fi hackle every never Once her inna the warm and tender Stomach a mix up like a blender Too much gyal a rush me all And touch me stampede Cyaa mek dem a juice, and weh siddim haffi breed A couple full rounds, well that's what she receive Can't get no space, Buju can't get no sleep Dive inna me bed, woman a tell me how me sweat Whisper inna me ears and say she ready fi do it Realer than a cement bout and is weak One alone is not enough, the job is not complete Many ass be player hating and we roll in deep Listen Buju the Banton 'cause we pattern sound sweet We tell out just how rock bottom cheap Have the honeys bawling out, "Gargamel, please!" "Gargamel, please!"