- Mista Mista

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May 10, 2016


The Score
Mista Mista
Sung by: Wyclef
Mista mista
Can I get five dollars
So I can get something to eat
You can't get no money from me
Cause everytime I give you a dollar
You go get shot up with more and more needles
And you tell me that you're drug free
Drug Free
Mista mista
I haven't ate anything for a week
Can I get a quarter?
What can a quarter get you?
Nothing motherfucka
You are just fucked up
Off them fucked up drugs
You know you need to leave alone
But you keep telling me that you're drug free
You ain't drug free, you're a fiend
And everytime I try to help you
You pretend as if it's okay
Then later on in the week
You go back to shootin' needles, to sniffin'
Oh mf, but you told me you were DRUG FREE
You ain't drug free motherfucka
So you damn well, can't get no motherfuckin money from me

Song: Fu-Gee-La (Refugee Camp Remix, Sly and Robbie Remix)

We used to be number 10
But now we're permanent one
Wyclef, Preacher's Son, Ichi bang,
Listen Mrs. Tin Can
I'm your candy handy man
Me without you is like American without the Band Stand
Cool fellow, dancehall stay mellow,
All that guntalk who would have thought you died yellow
Damn, another hero wannabe
Now he sleeps with his friends in the mortuary
Dude, I find it rude, when you intrude,
My pistol nozzle hits your nasal,
Doo doo comes out your anal
Just because your buff, don't play tuff
Cause I'll reverse the earth and turn your flesh back to dust.

Ooooh La La La,
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our ting
Oooh La La La, It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah, Sweeeeet Thing

I stay high off the Fu-Gee-La
Bust when we rush,
Through you must, know ruckus
Crew got G's like the refu's
So F who
Ever want to test
Bring me stress,
West coast back to east,
Grab my toast when I reach
Truly curvin', swervin, lifestyle is urban,
Sippin' Bourbon, surviving
We real to keep the word when
A boy want fa testthis set
Then you get wet-up
Just a bit to unprepared to to shoot him fair bet

Fake bullets can't scar me
I can smell the weak out like safari
Play you out like Atari
Sacrifice you Hari Kari
And I'm sorry,
To every single rapper, Dick and Harry
Saying they want to spar me
Cause how thick my repertoire
And my memoir be
Reminding me of eating Calamari in the Khalahari with a band of
Ha Ha Ha Ha, You shouldn't diss refugees, and
Ha Ha Ha Ha, You whole sound set's bootie, and

Oooh La La La, It's the way that we rock when we're doing our ting
Oooh La La La, It's the remix sound that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah, Sweeeeet Thing

I sit 90 degrees underneath palm trees,
Sitting in the cool breeze in the West Indies
Flea to sea, Ship my keys
On the Santa Maria, sip Sangria with senoritas
(They keep telling me this and telling me that)
They smile in my face then they talk behind my back
But what they lack is the facts about my stats
My rap impact will kill you softly like Roberta Flack

Ayo, What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon,
Trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion.

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