Lyrics:
the tough talks I think it’s funny tho
Since they say they got balls every punch is a low blow
2 countries came at me couldn’t kill lyrical
Joe
How can
Xanax bars
(I'm slushed out nigga don't blow my high)
Ok I buy it by da zip
And I buy em by the script
Shid i pop em by da script
I'm da bar baby
Looking
the tuck
Think the Xanax and the Endo Sack, make me slack?
Cocktailed or v'd up, gettin Swiss cheesed up
Please don't blow my high
Don't blow my high
When
a plate, just sit it on my face
We can go all night and my fav is 69
I'm trying to blow your mind
Kiss me, tease me, bite me, lick me, choke me real tight,
A crow banks bobs and weaves a streak of black across the sleet-gray sleek March clouds
Let it blow over
Let it blow over
The flurry falling
like fool nigga
I don't really play by the rules
She callin me Bob when I build on that ass
And I hammer her out like a tool
Wait
Chief again prolly
on the bank of the river downtown
staring across at the lea
I cuddle my miss and I blow her a kiss
she gives a curt nod to me
The water flows by with a hum
goin' down
Every time we come around
Y'all throw that money up, catch it comin' down
Every time we come around
Baby let me blow a hundred on you
Every
I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a gin shot too, but what cares I for praise ?
I
night in Blind Tom Alley
All I can give you is a kiss
No bullets, blades or evil eye
Now let me go alone in peace
And so will I
We stayed there, side by
shots, we turn opps into runners
We ain't fucking with rats, can't go out like Gunna
But I been a Young Thug, and I keep me a Gunner
Got a 100 on us, wish
the world end it don't
Matter cause we bout to blow
If the world came crashing down
Would you be here with me?
That's all I would die to see
If the world
from her again
I think it's because she associates me with that bad night
That ended at Bob Evans, and I understand
And on the way home, I said
Earth spins so slow?
You can bob & weave - still take some to the chin, low blows are nearly unavoidable
you can overlook the kid but you cannot avoid
We dope as blow with no cocaine
Goin' solo down the fast lane Ricky Bobby
Bob and Weave, this ain't no hobby to me
We don't come in last place
Bad
And she's like "how you like my hair? "
I'm like "that bob looks fly but them lips, oh my"
Can't wait til you plant that kiss on me, on me, on me, on me
and the endo sack, make me slack?
Cock tailed or V'd up, gettin' swiss cheesed up
Please don't blow my high
(blow my high)
When I'm sippin' that purple
side
Who knows better than the Funkadelic devil himself
To all knotty head niggas, bob to this
Come walk with Def Squad on the darkside
Coming to you
until my balls turn blue
Chorus
Verse 2: Fresh Kid Ice
I remember the first time I got a blow job
You know what I mean, when she slobs on Bob
She was
don’t you need me, to be the key, to be free
Clap your hands like this
Bob your head like this
Bob your head like this
Turn to be freaky, wife of Adam,
service
Pray the Lord I’m in my bag but you can call it a Birkin
These rap niggas never step up to me
I’m making them nervous
I’m probably God Body, Bob
DNA
I got Captain Crunch and Magic Dust inside my DNA
I don't do massive drugs, don't gas me up
Look, I got, I got, I got, I got
Murder all on my
off when you see me, keep it movin or breathe easy
Whateva, kiss my ass!
Verse 1:
Yo everybody love him
Every body know him
He gettin money now
thorns, odd words
Crowds form bono got mono from John Snow
Oops, Rondo got blow from Morocco
Golly, look, "Cool Storm" by Bob Ross
Comfort food, good stogy,
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