I feel abused

It's house music

Reminds me of you

I can't stop thinking stuff

I feel abused

But I know what's real

I'll know if my body gets healed

To make me DJ in a bad mood

I like punk music, the jazz and the blues

But the reggae music, never refuse

Come on, go!

Hear my rubadub, it is written

My name is Sublime, Bradley, I'll teach you real quick

But no (?) on my head

Aight, so

Just waitin' for the tide to get low

Nights get slow, but they put me in a trance

But, it ain't house music, it makes me want to dance

I said yes

All things, you said you know

Like a little hoe

But I was here

Sorry, but it's time for us to get off the stage, bro

This is about it

I said, hip-hop rolls, hip-hop rolls

And the beggar in the street said, "We can't take it"

Hip-hop rolls, hip-hop rolls

And the other in the street said, "We can't take it"

Rock music, we want rock music (x4)

They hope for a Jah in the sky with you

Them on a bike ride at 'em, an' you

So get your funky jazz band

The dance goes in

Show them what I mean

Budda-by, budda-by, budda-by, we off it

Them got enough soul, boy

'Nuff rock and roll, and we got enough

So why, boy?

Rock and roll, enough rock and roll

And we got the soul - woah, woah, woah

Alright, you know what we're gonna do, is

'Nuff respect to the man in charge, and the man Scotty, too

And the microphone, with us, doesn't know what to do

We're gonna bring it down, nice and low

Bassline:

And now, with the band

Rock our mic stands

Well, don't you stress, don't you 'fess

Don't you stunt my roadman

My name a Bradley, gonna rock ya

And that's how I lie, I

Have the kinda music, never gets old

Whole time, I give her the music, not the stage

Whole crowd, I make ya get on the dance floor

Whole crowd of people (?)

They don't want no rub-a-dub this time, don't want no rub-a-dub

Bring it down low