Lyrics:
and Weavin’ hoes
6 months I guess I dumped 6 bitches in a row huh
Bob and Weavin’ Bob and Weavin’ Bob and Weavin’ hoes
Tired of provin’ niggas that a Don
relate to this stuff
But those who asleep, still hatin' on us
Cause I'ma
[Chorus - B.o.B]
Make a lot of money
(Make a lot of money)
And I'm-and I'm gonna
Of fashion and flair
Have Bob and Danny Zarem (22) fly down
The older set'll need a pet
So who do you get well Danny has a granny
(23) who's the talk
a checkered double-knit suit drove up in a large El Dorado Cadillac, leased from BOB SPREEN...
("Where the freeways meet in Downey!")
...And he laid
112263
Lyrics and Music by Andrew Weiss
16 and a half centuries to go, and where it goes, nobody knows
I was punished for being born twice, and I
a marital squabble
Available Bob'll
Be there with the glue
Who could we open up to
Secrets we keep from guess-who?
Who is so safe and who is so sound?
of anyone who lies in this world
The priests are all asleep in steeples repeating the words
Big up the Bobs Beethoven too
Benzodiazepines
Big up Bjork
of the
hunters...
And, of course, as always, the part of Bob the Janitor is played by the
accordion.
Well, that's it for the introductions. And now, the story.
right
Play the game, such a delight!
Come on Down to Bob Barker
Come on Down Come on Down
Guess the price - don't be uptight!
Over by $1 - what a fright!
notice?"
He said, "Yes"
And I said, "Well, what in the fuck are we doing?"
I said to the player who had joined us
Here for fifteen solid minutes
I was
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
I had shown a great acumen for playing music by ear. My father bought me a small keyboard that was maybe like one or two, maybe three octaves. And I
support him
I never thought you would sell out
You're becoming so cocky
I asked you for a picture after your show
You walked right by me, I'm like
I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell
I'm getting by
motherfuckers
Niggas know the deal
Niggas know who the Don is
Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one
Peep game, uhh, what, what
Out of this world
Flexibly bob and weave
Chasing after are own feelings of ecstasy
Grooving to this lifespan
Moving through my ascension guess i'ma spaceman
If I really apply
I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell
I'm getting by
I just wanna bob with my head go dumb no
I don't see the problem I'm just too numb but
You the one who called it, I guess you won so, so
Insidious
To have Common Sense
I mean whats wrong with you dawg
Nowadays you like the boy
Who cried wolf tickets
Tryna provoke me with false threats
Cause I guess
think I'm Malcom X, Martin Luther
Add a King, add a Junior
Some bible verses, couple sunnas
An AK-47 that's a revolution!! (nigga)
Think I'm Tupac, Bob
Extraterrestrial, oh
Yeah, basically I'm an alien to y'all
I guess I'm, speaking in different languages than y'all
I guess, all you know is my aliases all
I
I'm just talking
Phases through living I've been through it all
But I'm fortunate enough for not many lost
I could be stretching that bar by a lot
Just
a cold borough
You in the back like a epidural
Stay there, you ain't ready to move with real niggas (that's right)
And guess who I'm talkin' to, you,
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