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*taken from the album entitled "The Vegetarians of Love"
Written by Bob Geldof
Kobe, nigga
You bastards know me, the one and only
Big homey from the Roc, I think you pastors lonely
You need Jesus in your life, it's either that
dope boys (Dope boys)

Baptized by the dope boys, ordained by the assholes
My salvation is the cash flow
Whoa, oh
I'm walking on air

I'm talking big
by The Black Album I was blacking out
Party at S.O.B's and we had packed the crowd
Big brother got his show up in Madison Square
And I'm like yea, yea
have sex with it or leave it alone
3-D Jesus by my bedside
Talks to me when it's late at night
I thought I left you in Sri Lanka
Working the desk
picnic basket
Not short of a sandwich
A peanut butter, Boyce Watkin's a faggot
Please come and get me
Said I suck him at your neck
Like a hickey, boy I'm
with shrimp
Flyer than Dumbo ears is, bitch

Uhh, now let me start by sayin' I don't like this beat
But I weather the storm, I'm a lightnin' streak
whattup to Ty-Ty, still sippin' Mai Tai's
Sittin' courtside, Knicks and Nets give me high five
N**** I be Spike'd out, I could trip a referee
Tell by my
whattup to Ty-Ty, still sippin' Mai Tai's
Sittin' courtside, Knicks and Nets give me high five
N**** I be Spike'd out, I could trip a referee
Tell by my
Alright, before we get it started
Before we did 'smoke two joints', that was Jack from the Toys
And that song 'Rivers Of Babylon'
Was written by
Alright, before we get it started
Before we did 'Smoke two joints', that was Jack from the Toys
And that song 'Rivers Of Babylon'
Was written by
cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Tommy mars (keyboards, vocals)
Peter wolf (keyboards)
Bob harris (keyboards, trumpet,
whattup to Ty-Ty, still sippin' Mai Tai's
Sittin' courtside, Knicks and Nets give me high five
Nigga I be Spike'd out, I could trip a referee
Tell by my
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
whattup to Ty-Ty, still sippin' Mai Tai's
Sittin' courtside, Knicks and Nets give me high five
Nigga I be Spike'd out, I could trip a referee
Tell by my
by my attitude that I'm most definitely from

New York
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There's nothin' you can't do
Now you're in New
bein ourself 
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat 
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get our meat 
While we ask no
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
a plug, Special Ed "I Got It Made"
If Jesus payin' Lebron, I'm payin' Dwayne Wade
Three dice cee-lo, three card monte
Labor Day Parade, rest in peace Bob
self
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get our meat
While we ask no reason for
stall
Stutter, softer than melted butter
There's no other word, go ask your mother
Hard solid as your city 
Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that
your thoughts is in the streets
North north is the side where my family stay
Big Baby Jesus, I can't wait
Until the money coming in, spend it all on guns
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
Motherfucker, you'd better break yourself

My skin is my sin, look at my complexion
Section 8, erection great
Balls like Ru Paul and a big fat
fingers to critics, raisin my head to the sky
Big I did it, multi before I die (nigga)
No lie, just know I chose my own fate
I drove by the fork in