Lyrics:
Three Dog Night?!!
Yeah...
Oh! I love them! They're my favorite band!.. ow gawd.. oh, do you like my new car? I'm ah.. my Dad just gave it to me for
Ayy
Shittyboyz, Dog Shit Militia
Long live $cams, you know (Daisy Lane Records shit, nigga)
Yeah (it it ain't no)
Pussy-ass niggas, ain't got no
to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I love my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope,
to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I love my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope,
Strippers are fuct, tweakers are fuct, your mom is fuct, and cocaine is fuct, your girlfriend is fuct, by my face shes fuct, by a dog shes fuct, by
flying
You hitting the weed I be frying
You're sipping the lean but i'm fine
Too sick for the syrup
She gon throw it back like I have stirrups
This is
She put a five in the jar at the piano bar and asked him for a brown eyed girl
He says sorry lady I don't play that song and I won't do
fun
Ian mean to eat you niggas up no tums
But I'm smoking on big gass for my vet lungs
My bitch is a Stylist she don't wear no toms
Stop jocking this
after the NBA signed Kobe
And he about to retire
So if anybody see "Don" Imus
Make sure you tell him I ain't lost it yet
Somebody tell Tom Silverman
If I drop another album I did that for my dogs
10 Maybach's everybody riding big
I just sit back like look what I did
Then I bow my head and beg for
Napoleon murphy brock (vocals)
Bob harris (vocals)
Johnny "guitar" watson (vocals)
Harry: (to thing-fish)
Anything you say, master! take me, I'm yours!
Uh, check it out, uh
I steps in where the Mo's and the hoes at bay-bee!
Fuck all that pretty shit
Takin' it back to the gutter for you
Uh, check it out, uh
I steps in where the Mo's and the hoes at bay-bee!
Fuck all that pretty shit
Takin' it back to the gutter for you
life
You leaving without it, get caught by the night
I'm sending my dog, cause I know he bite
You think that I'm fighting, go fight for your life
I'm
dog in my state until dey murder me
We don’t fire back i’m shootin first they hit like curry 3’s
I ain’t tom bout college all my shooters got they first
Bob Shane/Tom Drake/Miriam Stafford
Chorus:
Run Molly, run (oh, Molly). Run Molly, run. Long John's gonna beat you, beneath the shinin' sun.
Long
on me no Mike Vick
I bob and weave in that pussy good and I knock it out like Tyson
Say first round, face down, ass up, straight pound
Yeah, shorty, she
candy sto is open for sale
These junkies gone smoke it to death
Money, hos, clothes, auto-mobiles, gold grills
No scrill, no deal, fifth weel, big
the droptoptike
On the four wing island
By the port just vibing
Outsider
Never alone
Cause the sauce is vibrant
Breaking all moulds that you hold in silence
My
the chinese police
Here the dogs roll by?
Is this here they keep
The philostophers now,
With the rugs & the dust,
Where the books go to die?
How many yez got?
see me stroll by
In the Bob Marley tie die with the red eye
I'm sick now, I think I'm catching glaucoma
Standing on the corner, looking for weed donors
(I can just remember)
Just another area
For me to patrol
Just another area
That shows I got soul
Just another area
For me to patrol
intellect
I had already been practicing my craft for more than a decade by That point
The coward even uttered a faggot in my direction as Prissy and I Left,
attacked Pearl Harbor) a date which will live in infamy."
"This is Bob 'Command performance' Hope telling each Nazi that's in Russia today that, "Crimea
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