Ital-You-Can-Eat - Curly Castro, Billy Woods

Step into the ital spot act cocky

Stomach on growl like face from Hank Shocklee

Came here on the humble sign, neon-green open

Finally made my mind up on the last thing smoking

Now I’m feeling irie, my turn at the counter

Dread look me up and down could suck his teeth louder

Get over my spectacles, menu on my browser

Him like «wha yuh wan, we close anotha hour?»

Now I’m on the clock, attitude free of charge

I ask another question, I’m met with a «oh Lawd!

You should be on yuh order instead yuh wanna talk

Fine, how ya motha, how ya fatha, how ya dog?»

I’m like, «son I may be Yankee still I spit rum

Pow Bajan, second-coming Buju Banton»

All the wickedness and bickering, the clock still ticking

And I’m done with this fucking, gimme the jerk chicken

Fuck chicken, get money (when I)

Fuck kitchens, get money (when I)

Fuck chicken, get money (when I)

Fuck kitchens, get money (when I)

Ox tail slow simmer, sensimilla

Thick it’s like we hit the dimmer

Kiss me neck, me nah serve that fi dinner

Nuff respect but me nah have that fi lunch

Soup with pumpkin, dasheen, scallion bunch

Me not deal with Babylon rush rush

Burn a corn husk, garlic mash up

Scotch bonnet so strong, eye water when it cut

Overproof in a cup, pork roast ‘pon ya pit hog gon' split

Busha, what you know about this rose fish

Porgy cornbread, cold bammy, snapper escovitch?

Strictly what I deal with, festival langoustine so fresh it’s seasick

Poor but we eat rich

Poor but we eat rich

Fuck chicken, get money (when I)

Fuck kitchens, get money (when I)

Fuck chicken, get money (when I)

Fuck kitchens, get money (when I)