Woke up this morning
with a funny, funny feeling.
And that feeling
wasn't an unusual feeling.

Inna my bone.
It inna my blood.
Inna my toes.
Coming up to my brain.

I went to the doctor
to check out what's matter.
I went to the doctor
to find out the matter.

Doctor said: Son
you have a Reggaemylitis.
I said: What?
Doctor said: Son
you have a Reggaemylitis.

Inna mi bone.
Inna mi blood.
From my toes.
Up to my brain.

Is it contagious?
Is it outrageous?
Is it vicious?
Or is it dangerous?

I can feel it inna my bone.
Inna my ankle.
From my toes.
Up to my brain.

Is it incurable?
It's fit for desirable.
It isn't curable.
Fit for desirable.

I have it inna my toes.
Inna my ankle.
Inna my knees.
Up to my waist.
Under mi ribs.
Across mi shoulder.
Inna my finger.
Up to my brain.

Reggaemylitis I say.
It's Reggaemylitis I say.
You only catch it one way.
It's Reggaemylitis I say.

Sometimes your temperature
it really gets higher.
And the music
sets your soul on fire.

I got it inna my toes.
Inna my knees.
Inna my ankle.
Inna my waist.
Inna my heart.
Inna my soul.
Inna my mind.
Coming through my mouth.
Inna my finger.
Registered in my brain.
Reggaemylitis I say.