Lyrics:
this shit by myself
I juiced up on these niggas just like some welch
I remember they ain't wanna show support
Now I ball & I ain't gotta play a sport
I
Woah, woah, wassup, wassup
Thanks for having me, I appreciate it
Thank you for stopping by
I see you got our voicemail, too cool to answer the phone
Yeah
"Whatcha been thinkin bout?"
Bob said : "Thats the point. I won't think bout nothing.
Now I gotta do something else
(Oi! Oi! Oi!)
To pass the time
I wanna play at
Red Hat and Walnut Creek
Where people gotta stand ‘cause I sold out the seats
Where people wave their hands and bob their heads to my
ya'll interrupt
Hit you girl by mistake nigga
Wasn't even in my plan at all
I told homie I hit it there
These niggas wanna be planned all
Knowing that
Shaggy alongside Bob Sinclar
The lovely Sahara
ha ha ha ha
Ladies lets make love on the dancefloor
I wanna feel
I wanna hold
I wanna touch
said I'm only warming up
This is for the pioneers from Primo to Pete yo this high science here
Avant garde East Coast make 'em bob they heads
Nigga, my
a Harley (oh shit)
I'm just tryna to smoke a blunt, no Bacardi
Doin' a buck eighty in my new 'Rari (vroom)
Roll up, spark up, like I'm Bob Marley
Get high
anything
In our council estate as more an aspiration
To poshness
I was always pained by the fact that I was not a time lord
Nor a Pet Shop Boy
And looking
I can’t let another hoe
Think she can run game on me
Got distracted by the pussy
Imma Put the blame on me
If I gotta make a move to get it
That’s
Yeah i do it for the sport
For the sport haha
Uh jammin', jammin’
Jammin' like Bob Marley's cousin
Pop yo bitches stomach while
You fucking cuddling
Real G's move in silence like gnocchi
Made an Asian bitch cream like mochi
She wanna eat oysters by the ocean
If I ain't drinking champagne then I
Hook:2x
This gone make ya bob ya head & groove & this gone lift ya spirits up that's true & this gone make ya wanna 2 step & move said this gone be
my friend and my friend's name is Bob
Like the devil knows hell, I know Bob that well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his sixty-seven smells
Well enough
Dey face Yee
Them Dey motivate me
Won lon underrate me
Ema foju kere mi
Shey na by age ni
Shey na by age ni
I notice nobody Dey reason me
BOB won ma
blow by, I'm getting' you high
Bob Nesta said it best everything will be all right
Introspect connect the sect's and let this music make you fly
Close
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
Jim Pons (bass, vocals, dialog)
Bob Harris (keyboards, vocals)
Don Preston (mini-moog)
You are... you gotta tell me something... I
welcome
And this for everyone that having doubt i hope this your jam welchs
I been sipping with my sibling
Told him i been sinking feeling distant
He said
chair
I told that bitch go on her way
It ain't like I really care
Caught him right there by that church
He caught the holy spirit
Don't prey on the weak,
'm the only white boy out here that don't got a gimmic?
Hm well I guess it ain't on purpose, they flip for my throwaway verses
Walked by a hospital after
That's my friend and my friend's named Bob
Like the devil knows hell I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his '67 smells
Well enough to tell
That's my friend and my friend's named Bob
Like the devil knows hell I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his '67 smells
Well enough to tell
'm giving
I'm giving out
Girl don't shout
You so sexy as fuck and you cute when you pout
I don't got a doubt that you by yourself
Niggas be lame they get
left us by the roadside downhearted and alone
Randy got behind the wheel, said, "Boys, I'm going home."
So we turned 'round and faced our fate, hung
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