I was walkin' down the street. Concentratin' on truckin' right. I heard a dark voice beside of me. And I looked round in a state of fright. I saw four faces one mad. A brother from the gutter. They looked me up and down a bit. And turned to each other. I say. I don't like cricket oh no. I love it. I don't like cricket oh no. I love it. Don't you walk thru my words. You got to show some respect. Don't you walk thru my words. `Cause you ain't heard me out yet. Well he looked down at my silver chain. He said I'll give you one dollar. I said you've got to be jokin' man. It was a present from me Mother. He said I like it I want it. I'll take it off your hands. And you'll be sorry you crossed me. You'd better understand that you're alone. A long way from home. And I say. I don't like reggae no no. I love it. I don't like reggae oh no. I love it. Don't you cramp me style. Don't you queer on me pitch. Don't you walk thru my words. `Cause you ain't heard me out yet. I hurried back to the swimming pool. Sinkin' pina coladas. I heard a dark voice beside me say. Would you like something harder. She said I've got it you want it. My harvest is the best. And if you try it you'll like it. And wallow in a Dreadlock Holiday. And I say. Don't like Jamaica oh no. I love her. Don't like Jamaica oh no. I love her oh yea. Don't you walk thru her words. You got to show some respect. Don't you walk thru her words. `Cause you ain't heard her out yet. I don't like cricket. I love it (Dreadlock Holiday). I don't like reggae. I love it (Dreadlock Holiday). Don't like Jamaica. I love her (Dreadlock Holiday)