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Vybz Kartel gets another mainstream feature this time on the soundtrack for AMC’s supernatural action serious Preacher.

Despite being incarcerated since 2011, Vybz Kartel has remained very much relevant in Jamaica’s dominant music form, dancehall. The Gazanation leader, aka Worl’Boss, has added significantly to his vast catalog during his time behind bars. This year he did a collaboration with Mangi Mahal, “Balle! Shava!” The track is featured on the soundtrack for AMC’s hit series Preacher.

For those of you who haven’t yet been watching, Preacher, it’s time to get on the bandwagon. The show is now in its second season and has reportedly been renewed for a third next year. The first season averaged around 3 million viewers per episode, so these are ears that Vybz Kartel will reach and these might be folks who have never heard his music before. The series was developed for AMC by Sam Catlin, Evan Goldberg, and Seth Rogen and starring Dominic Cooper.

Vybz Kartel, real name Adidja Palmer, will get a shot to vindicate himself and walk free come February of next year when his appeal trial kicks off in the Appeal Court in Kingston. The dancehall star is currently serving life for a 2014 murder conviction. He will be eligible for parole in 35 years. Throughout the two-month trial, the defense argued that police officers tampered with cellphone evidence presented in court and also intimidate one of the defense witnesses. As if that wasn’t enough, one member of the jury was arrested the same day the artist was convicted of murder.

That juror, Livingston Caine, is now on trial for conspiracy and attempted bribery charges and faces a few years in prison if convicted. Vybz Kartel and his three co-accused, Shawn “Storm” Campbell, Andre St John, and Kahira Jones, have all maintained their innocence despite the mountain of evidence presented in the case against them. The murder victim, Clive “Lizard” Williams, body was never found.

[Verse 1]:
I’m down on my knees again
A call for my repentance
The war has taken over me
I beg for the forgiveness
The bullets ricochet uh
I hear `em when I sleep now
The blood is on my hands Lord
From man, woman, and child
I’m a soldier from my country
But a slave unto my gun
The screams to echo louder
God, what have I become?
I pledge my allegiance
I left my family, a new born baby
To slay the enemy, the struggle for power
The lust, the fantasy
I trusted America, she took my sanity

[Hook: Lee Brice]:
Winds of change rolling in
Take your love back again
I your fool, Amen
Just a bow for your violin
You played me
You made me your violin

[Verse 2]:
She looks at her reflection
Eyes black and blue
She told them she would leave him
She says she was through
He took her from a small town
Showed her the big city life
He promised her the world
Then he made her his wife
But he runs around town
He’s a cheater and a beater
She’s sleeping with the enemy
But no one believes her
A diamond green, a glass of whiskey
The bottle of pain pills open and empty
She left a letter “to hell I send thee”
He brought home flowers, ashamed and guilty
Too late

[Hook: Lee Brice]:
Winds of change rolling in
Take your love back again
I’m your fool, Amen
Just a bow for your violin
You played me
You made me your violin

[Verse 3]:
Uh, you was like a rag
I’ve been washed up and dragged through the mud like a thief
All my beefs and my love , take a bow , take a down
Took a left, took a right , It’s the one to be found
To explain to me why
Why it was me that was brought to the edge of the cliff
Cause this is not fair but why should you care?
The choices I’ve made
And mama, I swear that all can not be the fault of just me
I’ve tried to maintain my walks in my knees
To work and not see the changes I’ve strived for
A better life for my family got me died for
Taking away everything from me
That’s why more
They tell me to make a decision from a five doors
There’s a prayer I’m saying ‘Why lord?’
Send me to a war without a sword
I’ll fight and fight more
I’ll travel along road
Cause I’m just a violin
My life is another course
Cause I’m just a violin
My life is another course

[Hook: Lee Brice]:
You made me your violin
You played me violin
You made me your violin

[Intro: Quavo]
Yeah, skrrt
M-M-M-Murda

[Chorus: Quavo]
Motorsport, yeah, put that thing in sports (skrrt, skrrt)
Shawty bad (bad), pop her like a cork (pop it)
You a dork, never been a sport (dork, yeah)
Pull up (woo, woo), jumpin’ out the court (court, jump)
Cotton candy (drink), my cup tastes like the fair (cotton)
Straight up there (where?) we didn’t take the stairs (where?)
Faced my fears (fears), gave my mama tears (mama)
Shiftin’ gears (shift), on the Nawf, get serious (serious)

[Verse 1: Quavo]
Face all your fears, then get at me
Hit so many donuts on them backstreets
Sit so high in the nosebleeds (yeah)
Feel like I can fly, yeah
Xans, Perky, check (yeah), Bill Belichick
Take the air out the ball, just so I can flex
Take the air out the mall, walkin’ with the sacks
Take the air out your broad (hey), now she can’t go back
Xans, Perky, check (yeah), Bill Belichick
Take the air out the ball (yeah), just so I can flex
Take the air out the mall (hey, walk in with the sacks)
Take the air out your broad (woo, woo, woo, E)
Girl, yeah, yeah
I wish my grandma could see me (grandma)
Take away pain, ain’t easy (pain)
That’s why I fire up a bleezy (fire)
Niggas not cappin’ this season

[Verse 2: Offset]
Offset
The coupe came imported (hey)
This season’s Off-White come in snorted (white)
Green Lamborghini a tortoise (Lambo)
No human being, I’m immortal (no)
Patek and A.P. full of water (Patek)
Hundred K, I spend on my señora (racks)
My pinky on margarine, butter (margarine)
And my ears got McDonald’s nuggets (ayy)
Soon, as I land on the Lear (whew)
Piguets, they wet, tears (‘guets)
488, hit the gears (488)
Suicide doors, Britney Spears
I’m boujee, so, bitch, don’t get near (boujee)
Criss Angel, make dope disappear (voila)
Hit the gas, it got flames out the rears (skrrt)
It’s a race to the bag, get the mills (hey)

[Verse 3: Cardi B]
Ride the dick like a BMX
No nigga wanna be my ex (no)
I love, when he go on tour
‘Cause he cums more, when I see him less
I get upset off, I turn Offset on
I told him the other day
Man, we should sell that porn
Yeah, Cardi B, I’m back, bitches
I don’t wanna hear I’m actin’ different
Same lips that be talkin’ ’bout me
Is the same lips that be ass kissin’
These hoes ain’t, what they say they are
And their pussy stank, they’re catfishin’
Same hoes, that was sendin’ shots
They reachin’ out like their back itchin’
Why would I hop in some beef (why?)
When I could just hop in a Porsche?
You heard she gon’ do what from who?
That’s not a reliable source, no
So tell me, have you seen her?
Let me wrap my weave up
I’m the trap Selena
Dame más gasolina (skrrt)

[Chorus: Quavo]
Motorsport, yeah, put that thing in sports (skrrt, skrrt)
Shawty bad (bad), pop her like a cork (pop it)
You a dork, never been a sport (dork, yeah)
Pull up (woo, woo), jumpin’ out the court (court, jump)
Cotton candy (drink), my cup tastes like the fair (cotton)
Straight up there (where?), we didn’t take the stairs (where?)
Faced my fears (fears), gave my mama tears (mama)
Shiftin’ gears (shift), on the Nawf, get serious (serious)

[Verse 4: Nicki Minaj]
Uh, yo, watch your man, then you should watch your mouth
Bitches is pressed, administer mouth to mouth
You see them stats, you know, what I am about
I am the champ, I’m Iron Mike in a bout
Attention, I’ma need you to face front
You don’t want smoke with me, this is a laced blunt
Rap’s Jackie Chan, we ain’t pullin’ them fake stunts
My crown won’t fit on your bum ass lace fronts (uh)
You bitches catchin’ a fade, shout out my nigga Lil Boosie
All of your friends’ll be dead, you can get hit with that Uzi
I call him Ricky, he say he love me like Lucy
Get you a straw nigga, you know this pussy is juicy
This Givenchy is custom made, now you can’t get it at Saks though
I don’t work in no office, but they copyin’ and that’s facts though
I ain’t tryna be violent, but if Nicki on it, it slaps, ho
Get you lined for that paper like a loose leaf when that strap blow
I’m with a couple bad bitches that’ll rip the party
Quavo the QB, I’m Nick Lombardi
Pull up in the space coupe, I done linked with Marty
I can actually afford to get a pink Bugatti
“Yo Nick, didn’t you just do a hit with Gotti?”
That too, but my niggas send hits like Gotti
It’s a wrap, like the things on the head of a Saudi
Bitch, you my son, go and sit on the potty (rrrr)

[Verse 5: Takeoff]
Brand new Chanels (Chanels)
I stepped on runnin’ from 12 (12)
Ain’t make no commitment with none of you bitches
‘Cause money is treatin’ me well (uh uh)
If Nicki should show me her titty
Right hand on the Bible, I swear I won’t tell (swear)
If I get to play with that kitty
I wonder how many platinums we gon’ sell (albums)
Pop a Perc and catch a feel (I pop one)
Now I cannot feel the wheel (woah)
My chest bad, give me chills
And the left hand on Richard Mille (ice)
Not the watch, but the price on the ice
If you don’t know what that is (huh)
Motorsport, motorville
Abort the mission, that’s a kill (pew, pew, brrr)

[Chorus: Quavo]
Motorsport, yeah, put that thing in sports (skrrt, skrrt)
Shawty bad (bad), pop her like a cork (pop it)
You a dork, never been a sport (dork, yeah)
Pull up (woo, woo), jumpin’ out the court (court, jump)
Cotton candy (drink), my cup tastes like the fair (cotton)
Straight up there (where?) we didn’t take the stairs (where?)
Faced my fears (fears), gave my mama tears (mama)
Shiftin’ gears (shift), on the Nawf, get serious (serious)

[Intro: Yo Gotti & Choppa]
(Choppa style, chop chop, choppa style)
(Choppa style, chop chop)
She want (chop chop)
She want (chop chop)
She want (chop chop)
(She love chop chop)

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
If you gettin’ your own money, holla (oh yeah)
You got them bottles in your section, holla (oh yeah)
If your day ones with you, holla (oh yeah)
You ain’t tripping ’cause they hatin’ on ya (oh yeah)

[Post-Chorus]
Let’s get it
Ohh (Oh Yeah)
Ohh (Oh Yeah)
Ohh (Oh Yeah)
Oh oh oh-oh oh

[Verse 1: Yo Gotti]
They like God damn Gotti
Boy I Googled your net worth
All them chains on, I can tell that your neck hurt
You look good in them heels but I can tell that your feet hurt
So drop down on your knees baby gimme that neck work
Double-Cs oh you’re bad, ha
Oh you know you fine, ha
You blew a bag on your ass, ha
Quarter mill off that stove, huh
You off that dro, ha
Oh your momma ain’t raise no hoe, ha

[Hook: Yo Gotti]
She want a real nigga and you not one
I want a bad bitch and I got one [?]
Pay for it you gotta buy some
She 21 and I’m a savage I’mma try somethin’

[Chorus: Yo Gotti & French Montana]
If you gettin’ your own money, holla (oh yeah)
You got them bottles in your section, holla (oh yeah)
If your day ones with you, holla (oh yeah)
You ain’t tripping ’cause they hatin’ on you (choppas style)

[Hook: Yo Gotti]
She want a real nigga and you not one
I want a bad bitch and I got one
You gon’ pay for it you gon’ buy some
She 21 and I’m a savage I’mma try somethin’

[Verse 2: French Montana]
Montana
Choppa style, chop chop, choppa style
Choppa style, chop chop, choppa style
Choppa style, chop chop, choppa style
‘Rarri sittin’ low, smokin’ on the loud (skrt skrt)
[?] dropped the bags off find an Uber
Catch me with the models up in dyckman smokin’ hookah (haan)
I took her from a hooptie to a Benz, ha (haan)
From the projects to the crib with a fence, ha (haan)
She double-bag fuck me with her friends, ha (haan)
Then we jump right back to that bread, ha (haan)
Choppa style, ridin’ with a shotty
Two-fifty on my wrist
Tryin’ to soak all my body, ha

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
If you gettin’ your own money, holla (Montana)
You got them bottles in your section, holla (oh yeah)
If your day ones with you, holla (oh yeah)
You ain’t tripping ’cause they hatin’ on ya (oh yeah)

[Hook: Yo Gotti]
She want a real nigga and you not one
I want a bad bitch and I got one
You gon’ pay for it you gon’ buy some
She 21 and I’m a savage I’mma try somethin’

[Verse 3: Yo Gotti]
The beat is classic, but so am I
I [?] out the plastic to get ’em high
She rolled a diesel now we’re drunk, there’s a DUI
Bitch, [?] kids, between you and I (you and I)
Pop pop that pussy for a rich nigga
Girl you too real for a bitch nigga
I seen you with your friend, I wanna get with you
Y’all look good together, bring your bitch with you
You get money (ha)
You a honey (ha)
Heard your homie got that loud shit
They call it [?], ooh
You make it rain (ha)
There’s a thunderstorm
Your real niggas with you, they your day ones (hey)

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
If you gettin’ your own money, holla (Montana)
You got them bottles in your section, holla (oh yeah)
If your day ones with you, holla (oh yeah)
You ain’t tripping ’cause they hatin’ on ya (oh yeah)

[Hook: Yo Gotti]
She want a real nigga and you not one
I want a bad bitch and I got one
You gon’ pay for it you gon’ buy some
She 21 and I’m a savage I’mma try somethin’

[Intro: Yo Gotti & Nicki Minaj]
Aw, this the strip club anthem, nigga, what’s up?
Young Money
Yeah, me and Mike WiLL pull up to AOD back to back
Them AMG 63’s

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
I tell all my hoes, “Rake it up
Break it down, bag it up”
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
I made love to a stripper (stripper) first I had to tip her
Fuck it up

[Drop: Yo Gotti]
Don’t need make-up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up
You a bitch
Don’t need make up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up

[Verse 2: Nicki Minaj]
Brought out the pink Lamborghini just to race with Chyna
Brought the Wraith to China just to race in China
Lil’ bad Trini bitch but she mixed with China
Real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to China (woo)
I tell all my niggas (yo) cut the check (cut the check)
Buss it down, turn your goofy down (down), pound
I’ma do splits on it, yes, splits on it (splits)
I’m a bad bitch, I’ma throw fits on it (fits)
I’ma bust it open, I’ma go stupid and be a ditz on it (ditz)
I don’t date honey (no) cookie on tsunami (oh)
All my niggas wife me once they get that good punani (oh)
I think he need a Bonnie, I might just let him find me
Never trust a big butt and a smile, word to Ronnie
Re-rep Queens like Supreme, ask Webb and Nitti
A-ask Bimmy and Joe, nigga, run me my dough
Wr-wrist game is freezin’ like it wait in the cold
Nickname is Nicki but my name ain’t Nicole (grrr)

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
I tell all my hoes, “Rake it up
Break it down, bag it up”
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Well, I’m the dough boy, the one they talkin’ about
Fuck it up

[Drop: Yo Gotti]
Don’t need make-up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up
You a little bitty, bitty bitch, yah
Don’t need make-up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up, yah
You a little bitty, bitty bitch