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Total ratings: 1981
Length: 4:49
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Bounce over there sponji reggae
I say you bum right here and
You bounce over there
Sponji reggae
I say you rock right here and
You rock over there sponji reggae
I say you punch right here and you
Punch over there sponji reggae
A keep trying very hard to succeed
I almost lost my reflex
My bare feet was burn
That i almost lost my nerves
My fingers are shaking as the
Day start breaking
I could a never keep it no longer
I had to tell it to one another
Chorus:
You bum right here
Some say i am nuts zooky crazy
Want i to leave the music alone
They say go and look work
I and i are lazy
But i think for a while and
Say to my self
It's a time for every style
Chorus:
I may not be a movie star
I don't drive a big fancy car
I can afford only a winchester cigar
From the day i was born and
Given life
I and i a actor genius name it
Genuine character
So way back in my college days, I had a friend who DJ'd the show "Dread at the Controls" on our college radio station KJHK. While most reggae bands would ignore the entire Midwest, due to Curtis playing their records and getting a reputation of getting crowds to come out to see them, some good ones began stopping in to the little town of Lawrence, including Black Uhuru.
My friend was very excited that they were coming and obtained a nice spleef of Hawaiian to share with the band before the show - a rather exotic strain for Kansas back in early 80s.
The night comes and we are in the alley behind the venue with the lead singer. Curtis lights the expensive joint, takes a hit, gives it to me and I do the same and hand it to the singer. He inhales and inhales and inhales, the joint burning fiery red and shrinking rapidly to nothing and then flicks the tiny roach away while holding that mighty toke in for seemingly hours as Curtis and I look on in awe. "Sweet, but kinda small." the singer says.
He then produces this football shaped joint from inside his camo jacket and lights it and passes it to me. The only thing I remember after that was that I was completely unable to talk or walk at all for hours, or really do much of anything besides smile and nod my head slowly to the beat of their music. Easily the highest on pot I have ever been.
This song always make me remember that night many years ago, and even now I am smiling and nodding my head slowly in my chair to the beat. Thanks Bill.
This is a fantastic share... thank you!
It is literally called Reggae lol
Yeah, a bit like saying "That's not Rock, it's Punk."
A public service announcement: this isn't reggae, it's dub. Thank you. Now back to the incredible Black Uhuru
It is literally called Reggae lol
So way back in my college days, I had a friend who DJ'd the show "Dread at the Controls" on our college radio station KJHK. While most reggae bands would ignore the entire Midwest, due to Curtis playing their records and getting a reputation of getting crowds to come out to see them, some good ones began stopping in to the little town of Lawrence, including Black Uhuru.
My friend was very excited that they were coming and obtained a nice spleef of Hawaiian to share with the band before the show - a rather exotic strain for Kansas back in early 80s.
The night comes and we are in the alley behind the venue with the lead singer. Curtis lights the expensive joint, takes a hit, gives it to me and I do the same and hand it to the singer. He inhales and inhales and inhales, the joint burning fiery red and shrinking rapidly to nothing and then flicks the tiny roach away while holding that mighty toke in for seemingly hours as Curtis and I look on in awe. "Sweet, but kinda small." the singer says.
He then produces this football shaped joint from inside his camo jacket and lights it and passes it to me. The only thing I remember after that was that I was completely unable to talk or walk at all for hours, or really do much of anything besides smile and nod my head slowly to the beat of their music. Easily the highest on pot I have ever been.
This song always make me remember that night many years ago, and even now I am smiling and nodding my head slowly in my chair to the beat. Thanks Bill.
Read your very personal and genuine memo with a smile! :)
Everybody in my galactic presidential campaign misses you so much, Ann... you were a wonderful writer... rest in peace, friend... time flies when we're having fun... we be dancing... we love sex, drugs, and reggae...
Ann Lucas passed away February 6, 2012, at University of Utah Medical Center, at age 55 due to a subdural hematoma, which required surgery. She was put on life support, but after three days without signs of improvement, her family made the difficult decision to discontinue life support and donate her organs on the 6th.
Ann was born on Oct. 12, 1956, in Twin Falls, Idaho, to Buss and Dorothy Stepp, who encouraged her to follow her dreams. One dream was to become a published author, which she achieved in 2010 with her novel "Life-Dance". She also wrote fan fiction for the television show "La Femme Nikita".
Ann was also a freelance correspondent for the "Elko Independent" newspaper and had a recurring column called "Shaking the Tree", as well as writing articles for "Elko Daily Free Press".
Cynaera
My friend was very excited that they were coming and obtained a nice spleef of Hawaiian to share with the band before the show - a rather exotic strain for Kansas back in early 80s.
The night comes and we are in the alley behind the venue with the lead singer. Curtis lights the expensive joint, takes a hit, gives it to me and I do the same and hand it to the singer. He inhales and inhales and inhales, the joint burning fiery red and shrinking rapidly to nothing and then flicks the tiny roach away while holding that mighty toke in for seemingly hours as Curtis and I look on in awe. "Sweet, but kinda small." the singer says.
He then produces this football shaped joint from inside his camo jacket and lights it and passes it to me. The only thing I remember after that was that I was completely unable to talk or walk at all for hours, or really do much of anything besides smile and nod my head slowly to the beat of their music. Easily the highest on pot I have ever been.
This song always make me remember that night many years ago, and even now I am smiling and nodding my head slowly in my chair to the beat. Thanks Bill.
I like it! First time hearing this. I was in High School then. Working on Music Row in Nashville. Met Afrikan Dreamland (Ashid Himons) at the studio where I worked. Fell in love with Reggae and Rasta :)
Oh, wait. You were serious?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QL3ybmfWdCk
this has not aged well. kinda like some Sour Diesel left out on the kitchen counter
Cool stuff! More of it!!!
Cool stuff! More of it!!!
Thank you Lazarus : )
I'm going into the brilliant calm evening and do some zen breathing, love hearing and reading the beauty shared on RP
Ann Lucas passed away February 6, 2012, at University of Utah Medical Center, at age 55 due to a subdural hematoma, which required surgery. She was put on life support, but after three days without signs of improvement, her family made the difficult decision to discontinue life support and donate her organs on the 6th.
Ann was born on Oct. 12, 1956, in Twin Falls, Idaho, to Buss and Dorothy Stepp, who encouraged her to follow her dreams. One dream was to become a published author, which she achieved in 2010 with her novel "Life-Dance". She also wrote fan fiction for the television show "La Femme Nikita".
Ann was also a freelance correspondent for the "Elko Independent" newspaper and had a recurring column called "Shaking the Tree", as well as writing articles for "Elko Daily Free Press".
still fresh
Natty Dreadlocks
Sly and Robbie!!
Bam Bam Bam
I still like it (years on) but a "Camden carrot" does help with ambiance.
That and a pot of jerk chicken
I live in a state where gambling and prostitution are legal and you can walk around downtown with a beer in your hand, but possession of an ounce is prison. Methinks our law enforcement people have skewed priorities. I miss the good old days.... And this song just brings it home, if for no other reason than that damned reggae beat. Someday, I'll share my story about the first time I danced in a public place to reggae music...
I still like it (years on) but a "Camden carrot" does help with ambiance.
That and a pot of jerk chicken
Uhura. Rather listen to her translate subspace distress calls any day.
weirsh wrote:
I need a Marley enema after hearing this.