Yalla Yalla

Joe StrummerJoe Strummer 

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Joe Strummer

John Graham Mellor (21 August 1952 – 22 December 2002), best remembered by his stage name Joe Strummer, was a British musician who was the co-founder, lyricist, rhythm guitarist and lead vocalist of the British punk rock band The Clash. His musical experience included his membership of The 101ers, Latino Rockabilly War, The Mescaleros and The Pogues, in addition to his own solo music career. Strummer's work as a musician allowed him to explore other interests, which included acting, creating film scores for television and movies, songwriting, radio broadcasting, and a position as a radio host. Strummer is one of the iconic figures of the British punk movement. more »

Year:

1999

6:56

396 Views

Playlists:

#5

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Well, so long liberty
Let's forget you didn't show
Not in my time
But in our sons' and daughters' time
When you get the feeling
Call and you got a room
Meantime, we're cutting our hands at the ke-bab shop
In the streets of fear
Forgetting all out best tai-kwon-do moves
On a barrel of beer
We trying to get a signal on a Ragga F.M.
Do the D.T.I., bust C.N.N.
Sucking the wine right outta the vine
Spitting it out again

Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin'
Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin'
Drive, drive, drive
Distance no object, rasta for I

Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Yalla, yalla, ya-li-oo, whoa
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Jumbalaya on the Bayou

Kool Moe Dee was in the treacherous three
There's old school, new school and Brownie McGee
Going underwater to explode
Now night is falling on the grove
You can but dream

And I hear
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Yalla, yalla, ya-li-oo, whoa
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Jumbalaya on the Bayou

Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Yalla, yalla, ya-li-oo, whoa
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
There's jumbalaya on the Bayou tonight in the grove

Well, so long liberty
Just let's forget you never showed
Not in my time
But in our sons' and daughters' time
When you get the feeling
Call and you got a room
Meantime, we're cutting our hands on the ke-bab shop
In the streets of fear
Forgetting all those best tai-kwon-do moves
On a barrel of beer
Trying to get a signal through from Ragga F.M.
Do the D.T.I., bust C.N.N.
Sucking the swine right outta the vine
Spitting it back again

Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin'
Groovin', lets cut out of the scene, go groovin'
Drive, drive
Distance no object, rasta for I

Somebody got a vision of a homeland
From a township, from a township window
Through a township window
Some crazy widow dares to have a vision
Starts seething, like
Seeming like a homeland on the plain
Not in focus yet
Seeming like a homeland on the plain
Not a focus yet

I'm groovin' with a free syle nation
And maximum density

And I say
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Yalla, yalla, ya-li-oo, whoa
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Jumbalaya on the Bayou

Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Yalla, yalla, ya-li-oo, whoa
Yalla, yalla, yalla, ya-lah
Only to shine, shine in gold, shine

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