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I Don't Care Too Much For Reggae Dub Lyrics

See, I chose this profession, so therefore, I earn beer.
[Laughter]
Pretty much.
Got matches?
And I'm not lyin' one f*ckin' bit, either.
Are you guys musicians?
We're magicians.
What kind of music y'all play?
The kind that..I dunno.
Ask and so you shall receive.
Whoo!
Reggae!
Reggae? Oh, reggae!
I'm not too into reggae.
Why not?
Oh well...
I don't like it, that's why.
We play rock, blues. Oh, actually, we play, uh, you know bon jovi?
Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo.
Oh.
I like a little of this kind of music.
Yeah?
Yeah.
I like jazz, blues.
Oh, jazz is great.
I'm not too into rap.
I really don't like that rap.
Rap? Rap.
I like oldies.
Some rock, some hard rock.
I even like a little mexican music.
Don't understand the shit they're sayin'.
Don't understand nuthin', but I like it.
Now, the indian music.
Now that's somethin' to trip off of!
Acid.
Because every song is like...
You'd better be trippin' pretty hard.
Uh-huh.
I'll bet you trip hard.
Acid.
Oh, he's got it goin' on.
Don't you go near ya hand...
Yeah.
Everyday.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Everyday I say, oh please don't lie.
We gotta leave. I swear.
You should get a real one, man, what's your f*ckin problem?
Ah-hah.
I never said I thought you were stupid either.
He ain't got nuthin' on there.
Can one of y'all spare 20 cents.
I don't even have 20 cents.
I don't even have...uh..
If I had 20 cents a dollar like you...
I'd spend the last one...
This guy's got 20 cents, I'd bet you.
My wallet's inside.
Yeah, right, c'mon. Yeah, c'mon, you got money.
Yeah, you got cash.
Yeah, we know you got money, man.
Actually, I think I have a buck.
Give her the f*ckin' quarter!
We checked you out, we know you...
Whoo!
Reggae!
Reggae? Oh, reggae!
I'm not too into reggae.
C'mon down.
One more time.
C'mon down. C'mon down.
Yeah.
Go down and see your baby now.
No.
We love you, yeah.
When I heard the verdict the first time, I was sitting there.
Yeah.
f*ck.
Can't go in there.
f*ck.
I know he wasn't..
I immediately gave him all my money.
f*ck.
I know he wasn't.
I got another friend, he got the shit beat out of him for no reason.
You can stay here.
Hey man.
On that one.
You got a good samaritan here.
The mother-f*ckers knocked on the door and arrested him for being drunk
in public.
What's goin' on?
I'm gonna break down the...
He's really, in a mental hospital, and that thing really doesn't work.
You should get a real one, man, what's you f*ckin' problem.
Laaa...got a night down...
Yah.
Who's this guy?
[x2] That's Opie.
Opie.
Opie is our master.
Who's this guy?
That's Opie.
Yah.
Who's this guy?
[x2] That's Opie.
[x5] Opie.
[x2] That's Opie.
[x5] Opie.
And Opie is our master.
I am the master.
He's so smart, he's the smartest guy we know.
He created this.
Knock me out.
Master of the mother-f*cker.
Wait, I have one.
Try that.
He usually doesn't speak.
Like, every 2 weeks.
He speaks in tongues.
Oh, in tounges.
He only speaks every 2 weeks.
(incoherent rambling)
Hey, y'all meet Raleigh?
This is like, speaking in tounges...
Whoo!

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Songwriter(s): Bradley James Nowell
Record Label(s): 1994 Gasoline Alley Records Inc
Official lyrics by

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