Tournament

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!"